Waypoint
by Mariah Kechum
Summary: Post SSM. The Normandy is due to arrive at Illium for R&R and to celebrate Ashley's life. When Mommy Shepard and Daddy Vakarian enter the mix, Garrus and Shepard are caught in the middle of a microcosm of turian-human relations in Citadel space. Complete.
1. Chapter 1: Departure

Author's Note: When writing this story, the first name of Commander Shepard has been deliberately omitted, as I have found the fastest way to pull me out of my immersion is to read a name that is definitely NOT "my" Shepard's name. Contains a Spacer/War Hero Fem!Shep who took no lover in ME1and decided to test her "flexibility" with Garrus in ME2. If the interspecies thing gives you the icks then go no further, there are many other fantastic Mass Effect fan-fictions out there.

_ Disclaimer: No characters in the following fan-fiction belong to the authoress, but instead belong to Bioware or their prospective owners. The authoress takes no responsibility to any relation to anything, living or dead, as it is purely coincidental. _

Chapter One: Departure

_**Way-point**__: n. __**1.**__ In air operations, a point or a series of points in space to which an aircraft, ship, or cruise missile may be vectored. __**2.**__ A designated point or series of points loaded and stored in a global positioning system or other electronic navigational aid system to facilitate movement_

"Come."

As the door opened, Garrus Vakarian paused to allow for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The dish Gardner had prepared for the Commander smelled wretched to him- but then, so did most human food and he repressed his distaste with years of practice. The ship's cook had become rather sharp with him before demanding Garrus drop what he had been doing and take dinner to the captain. The entire crew was strangely protective of their leader and her continued absence had been hell on the ship's morale. The light from the fish tanks gave off a cold glow, though Kelly had once mentioned in passing that many humans found the sound of running water reassuring. He hoped it was true for Shepard, because he knew that she never took vacations. An outsider might have suggested the Commander was having a nervous breakdown or perhaps considering a dereliction of her duty. More fools they.

"Thanks, Garrus" Commander Shepard rasped at him, her voice thick from disuse, "Please put it next to the bed." One hand waved absently toward one of the two short tables- which were currently covered in paper drawings and notes. She was huddled in one corner of the bed, which had received a similar treatment. If anything, the side tables had gotten off easy.

"Shepard . . ." he rumbled in his best "father says so" voice, "Gardner has promised to make both sides of my face match if his carefully prepared dinner for you goes cold again. And I think EDI might just give him access to the _Hammerhead_ to do it."

"Damn." She paused long enough to pinch the bridge of her nose between those pale, fragile looking digits and rub for a few seconds. "I guess I can stop for a while." She slowly unfolded her legs and slid off the edge of the bed, part of one cheek darkened by the carbon stick she had been holding. Like many Turians, Garrus found the position uncomfortable to look at- his leg knobs would not let him sit that way.

While she stretched and then moved into her bathroom to rinse her hands, Garrus looked over some of her drawings out of habit. Usually Shepard's notes were incomprehensible; at least to people who were not Shepard, but the sheet thrown over the lamp was a passable sketch of "_Sovereign_" with possible weak points and speculative "best weaponry" against each. "You do remember you have a desk right?" he called over one shoulder.

Her laughter was muffled though the door and miniature ship display case. "I have two in fact."

"And you are using the bed because?"

"Tablet's still broken." The ship had taken massive damage in the assault on the Omega 4 Relay, breaking any number of things in the chaos that followed. Her personal tablet was among the "lost" and it was not exactly priority one for devoting their scarce resources for repair. Only her oldest squad mates had any inkling of how important that tablet was to her, but they also knew her well enough to not say anything to the rest of the crew. Shepard would not thank them for it- the needs of the mission and ship came first. Although, he wondered if EDI had said something to the engineers- he had thought he saw Donnelly working on something in the crew's quarters in his small pools of spare time. She re-emerged, drying her hands absently, and clucked her tongue at him for staring. "Why do you think I keep the newsprint and the charcoal? That stuff never runs out of batteries."

"And gets everywhere besides" Garrus retorted before gently pushing the bowl into her hands as she walked by. "Eat."

* * *

><p>Commander Shepard made a point of walking regular rounds with her crew, getting to know them, and figuring out what made them tick. Non-humans, she found, made this especially important. Humanity had been getting into trouble from the dawn of their existence because it was natural to assume one person's "ways" were exactly the same as their own. Her own species could not even manage to have the genders communicate without misunderstandings, much less people who weren't human. The tank-bred krogen "Grunt" was one of her crew she kept an especially close eye on.<p>

"Shepard." He greeted as she entered the cargo bay that was 'his'.

"Grunt," Shepard paced slightly before addressing the adolescent krogan. "Have our enemies been worthy?"

"Battle Master-" Grunt seemed to struggle to find the words he wanted, "they far outstrip what Okeer showed me about Rachni. Our clan is strong. Our enemies are strong. I am content." Grunt shifted his weight from one foot to another.

Shepard smiled and mimicked Grunt's body language. Having Wrex on the first _Normandy_ had been a blessing in any number of ways. At that particular moment she knew she was thankful that she'd studied Wrex's motions and stances and knew when and how to adopt them. Grunt may have been tank-bred, but what Okeer had used to educated the young krogan before his "birth" had been HIS species way of looking at the universe in general. "Content?" she countered, "But not stimulated?" The krogan ground his teeth audibly; normal for him when Grunt did not want to show her that she'd touched a nerve. "Has it occurred to you to become a Battle Master yourself?"

Grunt snorted. "I am strong. What would I become if I am already strong?"

EDI chimed over the _Normandy_'s speakers "Commander Shepard?"

"Yes, EDI?"

"We will be arriving at Omega in approximately twenty minutes, and the crew is gathering for a briefing." As always the AI sounded unflappably polite; except of course when Joker was talking to her, or sometimes when it was Shepard and Joker together.

Shepard glanced around the cargo area Grunt called home. His tank still sat prominently in one corner (heavens knew they did not have a cot big or robust enough to fit him), but slowly he was starting to personalize his space. Granted, she could wish it would take less after Zaeed's tastes, but she was not surprised. Plus, she had managed to keep him from keeping anything organic. Yet. "Thank you EDI. Grunt, good leaders are strong, great leaders make others strong. I just think it might be good if you start thinking about what you want. The Reapers are still out there, but if we survive the coming war your people will need you."

"I am clan Urdnot. What do I owe my people?" He was starting to get uncomfortable now. It was time to make a hasty, but dignified exit.

"Only you can decide what you do and do not owe anyone Grunt."

* * *

><p>A part of her wondered at the sheer diversity of the group gathered around her. Ages ranged from less than a year to getting close to a millennia, all genders represented, and their species encompassed most in Citadel space (and at least one outside it). Yet, despite the push some may have felt to include someone biased only on species to make themselves appear open minded or pure (depending on which side of that spectrum they shipped), every person on her crew had earned his or her place there. The 'non-combat' crew members crowded around the ring her squad created, some shoved into the tiny quarters with their back and shoulders pressed into a corner. The air was heavy with the breath of them, and the responsibility, duty, and protectiveness pressed around her momentarily along with the exhaled oxygen. The crew hummed with energy that needed burning off; clearly she and Garrus were not the only ones who needed to "blow off steam", but the lack of privacy was likely making that option more difficult.<p>

"Many of you know that Cerberus has cut us off for destroying the Collector base. We need not rehash my reasons- you all were there. The reasons have woken us up more than once this last week with the night sweats." The crew began to mutter uncomfortably with that; not that she expected otherwise- the ship's councilor certainly was earning her pay with the full time head-shrinking. Despite the cramped space, the Commander paced a few steps to the left, and made eye contact with Kelly behind her. The yeoman gave her a slight nod. "Those of you here who do not wish to be separated from Cerberus will be free to leave when we reach Omega. No one here will blame you- those who joined the organization in the first place did so for reasons you should not have to justify to anyone. Those who stay will have one more chance to leave when we reach Illium. Be very sure if you decide to stay. The Reapers will be gunning for humanity in general and for this ship and it's crew in particular." Shepard rolled one shoulder that was still healing as she paced back. Dr. Chakwas was giving her the piercing look of medical assessment which she ignored, and Garrus was watching with the usual predatory stillness when he gave something his full attention. Grunt did not have the room to shuffle about, though most of the crew was trying desperately to allow him the space. The krogan would move suddenly and without warning, and it would be unfortunate if anyone so happened to be blocking the direction he wanted to go. Shepard continued, "Those who stay behind will be in great danger- but I say if the Reapers come hunting us, let them beware underestimating us. If they seek the death of life in this galaxy, we will be the first bright light that blooms in the hail of firepower to destroy them utterly." The crowd grew still and their attention focused; the commander's words had that effect on people, and the subject was heavy in everyone's hearts- and like lead in Shepard's lungs. "If they desire more civilians from ANY colony of ANY people, we will be the arrow that seeks to lay them low. If they come for Tuchanka, for Thessia, for Kahje, or Sur'Kesh, for Palaven, or for . . . Earth," She swallowed, "I promise we will be the tip of the spear WE lodge in their synthetic throat!" With a final slam on the console table in front of her, she straightened to her full height. "Failure is not an option." Though it was difficult to hide, her chest swelled with pride at the cheer that made the briefing room feel like it shook; these were her people and she would serve them to the best of her ability- and that was no small thing.

She waited for the cheers to die a natural death, "Now, some of you were either hired by Cerberus, and Miranda has vowed to make sure you get what you were promised-"

"I'll vouch for that." The cankerous merc who hunched over the table leaned heavily on one hip. Shepard had never told anyone he had founded the Blue Suns, but somehow the crew had found out and gave the old solder a respectful berth. The gaps around her squad made the room more crowded than it could have been. "I was paid in full- not sure how you managed that one darlin', but I appreciate it."

Mummers from around the table seemed to confirm that issue was taken care of. Miranda was busy covering her face with one hand at the pet name Zaeed had recently taken to calling her. Shepard raised one hand to regain the crew's attention, "Some of you have been promised compensation in other ways; have each of you got what you were promised?" Jack and Grunt swapped a look that made grown men run for a change of pants, which the crew knew to ignore. "I take that as a yes. Now, we are going to need an army for this little encounter we are planning, and we can't count on the Council to wake up- though it would be nice."

Tali looked up from her Omni tool. "I have contacted Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay- and I have asked her to visit us on Illum. No offence Legion, but we can't exactly bring you to the Migrant Fleet by yourself; I barely can imagine it with Shepard there. Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema might be convinced if we can guarantee the homeworld or at bare minimum at place to protect non-combatants. Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib should jump at the idea of peace with the Geth, and we will have a majority of the Admiralty board. The Conclave remains a problem, however.**"**

Legion, who stood opposite of Tali, somehow managed a submissive gesture, moving his 'face' accordingly. "Creator Tali Zora should not worry. This platform has no desire to cause incident. Shepard-Commander will be moderator."

Shepard nodded. "We will move slowly, regardless. This could blow up in our faces very quickly. Legion, are you sure you will be able to act as a diplomat?"

"This platform was designed with interaction with organics in mind. We have achieved consensus that we will advocate for all Geth." Legion fiddled with his Omni tool, and the mirror image the two of them created caused Shepard to smile.

"Very good then. EDI, have you sent out those e-mails I wrote?"

EDI's hologram appeared in the center of the table as she addressed Shepard. "Yes Commander. Dr. Liara T'Soni has agreed to the meeting time and place, Urdnot Wrex has sent a tentative reply, saying and I quote, "I will make it there if I can get these ground-grubbing, short sighted, varrens from getting their quads in a bunch long enough to fly there'; still no reply from Lt. Kaidan Alenko."

Tali made a derisive noise. She and the other remaining members of the old _Normandy_ were taking Kaidan's distance personally. She wished they would be a tad more subtle about it; the rest of the crew was beginning to pick it up and if he ever came on board, thing could get 'complicated'. "Well, if there's no other business, we will be staying at Omega for approximately two days. Be back on the ship at 08:00 hours or we will assume you elected to stay behind. Dismissed."

* * *

><p>The drone of the engines hummed more audibly in the Life Support section of the <em>Normandy<em>. The dryness of the air was just barely noticeable to her, but perhaps that was enough. Although she knew Dr. Chakwas had checked their assassin out when he'd first come on board, Mordin had been working on some possible solutions to make Thane more comfortable should he choose to return- mostly as a mental exercise. Shepard never objected to those- some surprising and useful data had come out of them, and she quietly was of the opinion it was some sort of coping mechanism for having too much brain.

"Thane?"

"Yes, Siha?" Thane whispered, his voice remaining oddly guttural and raspy. She wondered if all Drell's voices were that way.

The drell had been acting oddly detached after the suicide mission; everyone dealt with near-death experiences differently, but she was worried. "Thane, are you . . . disappointed that we survived?"

"Perhaps, in some ways it would be easier," the drell seemed deep in thought, she wasn't sure if he knew he was rubbing his left palm with his right fingertips in slow circles. "But now I must take advantage of our survival, fleeting though it may be. Kolyat deserves my attention while I can spare it. You have made me realize this, and now I must make time for him where I was too selfish before." He paused, "May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," she replied, wondering if she should sit down. Philosophy and religious discussions with their assassin were always stimulating, but they could become very drawn out.

"I am . . . not very good at reading humans. Sometimes you seem sad. I have watched you comfort and goad the crew as you saw they needed it, and always with the intention of making them a better person."

She smiled, but she could tell it did not reach her eyes. "Thane, I am sad for many reasons. I worry for many more. What is the question?

"Who comforts _you_ Siha?" Thane asked quietly

"Thane," Shepard said with sudden insight, "You loved your wife, and you are scared now. You want comfort from me that I-" she groped for words. Thane and she had slowly moved from respecting one another to being close intellectual friends; at least, that was what she had thought. "I can't provide it for you Thane. Not in the way you are asking."

"I know this siha, but still-"

Shepard sighed, "Thank you for your concern, but I am fine." His enormous eyes continued to bore at her, and after a minute she inquired "Are you asking '_Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?'_"

Thane's brow firled in concentration. "I belive my traslator just glitched. What does that mean?"

Shepard smiled, "Only if you explain what 'siha' means."

Thane allowed the subject to drop as they wandered back to their comfortable subjects, feeling she had been as gentle as she had been able to- much to his frustration.

* * *

><p>The end of Shepard's "day" came without too much drama. Naturally, most of the crew had pulled her aside to have "a special word" with her. Several of her squad were leaving, including Thane (who was going to spend some time with his son), Samara, and Zaeed. Thane said he would be back if he was able, but Shepard was not sure about the other two. Samara's mission was finished- though heaven help Omega if she decided to stay there! As for Zaeed, he went where he was paid, and she could not help but admit she had gotten her credit's worth with him. But without Cerberus' backing there was simply no way she could retain him. He had laughed a little condescendingly at that particular conversation, and told her it had been taken care of, and she'd see him; but not right away. Katsumi apparently had a prospective job offer, and Shepard had taken care to not ask the petite Japanese woman about it. To be honest, she probably didn't want to know.<p>

She was still tired by the time she took the elevator up to her quarters. Deep inside, she admitted that she probably was not as recovered as she'd like- but if she'd said anything to that effect, the crew would likely sit on her until she'd had a month's worth of leave. Her crew's over-protectiveness was starting to feel suffocating.

"You saved them Shepard," Katsumi had retorted to the unspoken observation when she'd gone to find out what Katsumi's plan's were, "And not just in the distant, impersonal 'Hero of the Skyllian Blitz' or 'Savior of the Citadel' kind of way but the literally 'pulled them out of coffin-pods and stopped them from becoming a human milkshake, then sent Mordin along to make sure their traumatized asses made it back, though you could have really used every scrap of firepower' kind of way. You were asking for it."

'Yeah,' she thought to herself as she reached her quarters, 'I asked for it.'

The Captain's quarters were already dim, and the Commander could just make out the large lump of the individual who shared her bed. He'd been off for around four hours now, having worked the mid-shift, and should be deep asleep by the time she'd gotten off. The fish tanks glowed and she could swear the Prothean orb she'd recovered had its' own luminescence, though in the half-light she could not be sure. She quietly as she could manage performed the nightly bed time rituals before crawling into bed. As always, he had neatly stacked her notes together on one of her desks so that she did not have to worry about not damaging them on her way to bed.

He woke slightly. He always seemed to as soon as she crawled into bed with the intention of sleeping. She could sit up and read all night, but as soon as she was ready to sleep, he would open his eyes and his arms so she could curl against him. One hand reached out as she settled, and he drew a fist full of hair toward his face. She felt him take a deep breath, smelling her hair, then settled back to sleep.

Thus, tucked under the chin of a Turian and completely dwarfed by his large frame did the hero of the Skyllian Blitz, the savor of the Citadel, and the over-worked and no longer paid Captain of the _SSV Normandy_ settled into sleep.

* * *

><p>Breakfast with Samara had become a habit that Shepard was going to well and truly miss. While the asari did not feel like a 'mother' per se, she did feel like a wise aunt; distant from the awkwardness of a mother-daughter relationship but also close in an familiar-advisor sort of way. She also knew that Hanna Shepard would have instantly bonded with the distant asari- that they both would have liked and trusted each other right away. Shepard sat with her coffee cup cradled in both hands as the two of them watched the endlessness of stars before them. The silence was comfortable, and they both hated goodbyes.<p>

"Samara?" she asked at last.

"Yes Commander?" the justicar asked without seeming disturbed. Unspoken between them was the agreement to make the parting as painless as possible.

"You know of the asari councilor's reluctance to see the Reapers as more than a myth and the babblings of one half-mad Spectre?" The quiet bitterness spilled out despite her attempt to conceal it.

"I know of it," Samara continued, pretending not to notice her distress, "I know what I have seen with my own eyes as well. You wish to know how to approach her?"

Struggling to control her emotions, Shepard nodded.

"You know that asari are long lived, and that is one excuse they are using to ignore you- 'she is simply too young to realize what is important or the young are very excitable'. You know that asari naturally attempt to balance or maintain perceived balance in a political structure, and that is the TRUE reason they do not accept what you say. We long for stability, even if false. As for what action to take," Samara briefly glanced toward Shepard, "You should not take any action at all. I have spoken to Mordin, and with your permission I would like to copy the data we have collected, along with the formal letter Mordin has drafted for his species representative to the Council."

Shepard inhaled slowly, feeling both that she was grateful that Samara was going to intercede on her behalf, and enraged at her impotence to beat some sense into the Council. Gratefulness won out. "Thank you, Samara, for everything. Do you plan on staying on Omega for long?"

"Only long enough to secure transport to the Citadel."

"No doubt Aria will be as grateful as I am now when she hears."

* * *

><p>Gathering what little personal credits she had to her name, Shepard went wandering into Omega about twelve hours after they had initially docked. She was looking for something worthy to spend it on, though she had no idea if she was looking for a gift, something for herself, or something for the ship. Samara had asked her to look for transportation to the Citadel for her while she was out. Katsumi had originally gone out with her, and had vanished shortly before Shepard made it to the markets. She had squeezed her hand briefly before vanishing into the crowd. With that, it seemed, she would have to be content.<p>

The last of her goodbyes, such as they were, done, Shepard went around to each merchant stand and browsed though the catalogs of their wares, and as they did so the murmurs around her began to send up flags.

The word 'turian' came up repeatedly, along with the word 'c-sec', but it wasn't until she was carefully thumbing though the grease-stained catalog of Harrot, the rather twitchy elcor merchant, did another word get floated by what seemed to be an Eclipse merc at first glance did her blood run icy.

"Vakarian."

The merc groups had been sure that Archangel was dead. They could not have discovered his identity. She took as shaky breath to steady her nerves, then shook her head at Harrot- nothing good enough for her to spend her credits on here. Apparently she had cleaned him out last time. She as she slowly wandered back toward Afterlife, she casually activated her com. "EDI, did you catch that?" she hissed.

"Affirmative Commander. Garrus Vakarian is on board the ship, continuing his work on recalibrating the main cannon." EDI replied. "I will let him know to stay on board."

"Secure the ship against intruders, and maintain radio silence. If Garrus balks, tell him it's an order."

"Done . . . and done. Who would you like for me to send to you for assistance?"

Shepard bit into her bottom lip, and felt it split beneath the pressure. All her "shady friends" had left already. She needed a detective. Mordin would suffice perfectly and he knew the area. For the second person she needed someone with firepower that could be delicate when needed- normally Garrus, but she didn't dare let him off the ship. "Send Mordin and Miranda EDI, after you brief them. Have them meet me at Afterlife. I need to talk to Aria anyway."

* * *

><p>Afterlife was always was a menagerie of smells, sounds, and people, most of them unpleasant. Miranda found the captain nursing a drink at the bar, waiting for them and wearing a guarded expression. The former Cerberus agent ignored the leers from the patrons, who clearly did not remember the mess she had caused the last time the <em>Normandy<em> had docked at the asteroid-turned-space station. Mordin was, as always, on high alert. Salarian minds tended to work quickly, but having overheard Yeoman Kelly once refer to the doctor as "like a hamster on coffee", the biotic could not help but wonder if she had understated the matter. Fortunately he was not speculating until the Commander could brief them herself; at least not out loud anyway.

With one jerk of the chin, the two squad mates moved in toward their captain. The grim facial expression only cemented one thing in their minds- whoever had put their crew in danger was likely going to digging their own grave soon. One of the absolute rules Miranda knew about her commanding officer was Shepard did not tolerate threats toward "her" people.

"Did EDI talk to you?" the Commander asked without preamble.

"Yes. Quoted statistics of threshold danger words toward Vakarian. Situation probability moving toward explosive. Clearly must eliminate threat toward crew and ship." Mordin Solus began, trailing off when Shepard got to her feet and instead settled for nodding decisively.

"My thoughts exactly. Come on, let's see if Aria will oblige us." One swift motion of her Omni tool paid for her drink and tipped the bartender, before she turned on her heel and began the short march toward the platform where the asari surveyed her domain.

Miranda had never been entirely sure why Aria was so casual about allowing a Spectre near her, much less dropping in unannounced to talk to her. Oh, Miranda would have bet her good pair of pants that the bouncers, the bartenders, and the strippers kept an eye on all the customers and would report the interesting ones covertly; and it was possible Aria was playing the 'keep your possible enemies close' card. Maybe she was picking up subtle intel from them, or possibly she felt the need to find out what the 'dead' Spectre was up to so she could make the appropriate calls, or maybe the asari was fascinated by someone who didn't feel the need to shout about their strength in front of her. Not knowing the reasons anyone did ANYTHING made Miranda nervous.

As usual the guards let them though with a jerk of the head, and Aria was lounging on her make-shift throne of cushions. Shepard waited calmly for Aria to acknowledge her presence, and then settled just out of arm's reach. She clearly trusted Miranda and Mordin to keep her safe, and Aria knew it too. The subtle dance of each set of 'guards' watching each other began, and both the leaders pretended to ignore the hair trigger tension swimming in the air. Miranda watched the batarian guard to the left. He seemed to be rather twitchy.

"What do you need?' barked the former Asari commando.

"Rumors have been circulating that someone has been looking for a turian with the last name "Vakarian". I need to find out if I need to take steps." Shepard casually twisted one lock of hair near her face, than brought it to her lips, but her eyes never wavered. Both women's positions were "relaxed" but there was an energy running underneath it.

"I have heard some of the talk," Aria began, her sentence initially drawn out in the way one asks for a bribe before Shepard interrupted the unspoken question of 'what's it worth to you?' with a cough.

Now that she had Aria's attention back, she shifted deeper into the cushions, "There was one other thing I wanted to mention. The justicar who is part of my crew is taking a somewhat, uhm, _extended_ leave. She mentioned last time we were here that she wanted to come back here once our mission was finished, and I was more than happy to oblige. However, it occurs to me that she might find the Citadel a better vacation spot- don't you agree?" Aria laughed- at what Miranda was not sure. Shepard smiled, "Consider it under my 'not fucking with Aria' rule."

"I know of a nice little ship that would probably serve. I'll let them know to give a discount- they owe me a favor. As for the rumors," Aria stood to look back out over her club, "A turian came around about a week ago. Started trying to dig up what was already dead and buried. He wanted information about that little vigilante you hooked up with. He wanted to see me, in fact, but I wasn't interested. He stalked around like he was better than everyone else, and it eventually got him into trouble. I'd look into what's left of the Eclipse band here- they seemed particularly interested 'acquiring' him once the bouncers were done with him for starting a fight."

Shepard stood, and Miranda kept from letting out the breath she'd been holding. The Salarian beside her made a point of checking him Omni-tool before glancing her way. "Always a pleasure Aria," the captain said as she inclined her head toward the asari.

"Pleasure's all mine. Do be sure your crew tips the girls nicely, and try not to blow up too much of Omega on your way out."

* * *

><p>The tip about the Eclipse was enough, as Aria probably knew it would be- though she was not sure if the de-facto leader of Omega knew just how fast EDI could pinpoint Eclipse chatter to the warehouse the three <em>Normandy<em> crewmates were currently hiding outside of. Then again, Aria was still sore about the mercs planning to gang up on her, so she likely wouldn't do them any favors. They had patiently watched the small Salaian troop guard rotate twice, and they were waiting for the thirty second gap Mordin calculated would occur in five minutes. Inwardly, Shepard was seething. Very few things set her off more than someone or thing gunning directly for her crew. Miranda checked the clip on her pistol once more, just as her commander had done for the shotgun she favored.

Mordin gave the signal, and the squad sprinted though the dark path they had laid out earlier. Mordin began the process of hacking the side door almost immediately, even as the two women guarded his back. After several tense seconds, the door opened with a quiet hiss, and the three darted inside.

"There," Mordin pointed behind the sketchy safety of a crate. "Fire systems- explosive. To left, possible quarters or make-shift jail. To right, likely command structure. Recommend stealth."

"Right," Shepard hissed in a whisper. "We take out the command structure before anyone knows what's going on. Then we find the turian, and see if he needs to be dealt with as well."

Miranda moved with a quiet grace that was more dancer than her captain's. While Shepard's moves were just was well trained, they did not seem as alluring due to the heavy military motions that accompanied them. Each woman was quietly (and unknowingly) jealous of the other. They climbed the crates in the shadows, creeping in tiny spaces that barely allowed for Shepard's armor to push through without noise. The going was slow, sometimes painfully so. Several times Shepard found herself wishing for that oddly concave torso the Salarians sported. Even as they passed, she noticed Mordin was memorizing the location, numbers, and patrols of each, though none dared light their omni-tool for fear of detection.

'Almost there,' some part of her mind felt the bead of sweat that ran down her forhead, to one side of her nose, and finally stung her split lip, but it was only one of many things that quietly swirled in the back of her mind. For now, even her rage at some unknown thing threatening her crew was like a quiet animal that paced out of sight. Lack of focus would get her crew killed, and damned if she hadn't saved them all in a suicide mission only to lose them in some little filthy hole on Omega.

Blocking the glow from the professor's omni-tool with her body, Shepard timed the patrols. They had approximately two minutes to get into the room on the right and then get out before they were noticed. Miranda tapped her on the shoulder when the door unlocked, and the three waited in tense silence for their window of obscurity to open.

_Now_. They moved together as though they were one person, Shepard in front, Mordin between them being a slightly soft target, and Miranda behind, keeping exact pace with them despite it being backwards. They slid into the tiny opening the door made at their approach, 'Clever Mordin for programming it to not open all the way so if the room is lit, there is less chance of us being discovered.'

The room was indeed lit, leaving very little to imagination as they took in the unconscious turian tied to the chair in the center of the room, the blue blood that covered him plus parts of the wall where it had splattered, and the very shocked salarian Eclipse members who stared at their sudden entrance.

Shepard signaled for a singularity from Miranda, who did not hesitate and placed it beheath the chair, even as Shepard gestured and threw the barrier around the turian. Three well placed, silenced shots ended any possibility of betrayal of their presence.

"Modin," Shepard hissed as Miranda canceled the biotic display. The genius doctor was already moving toward the victim.

"Alive. Still, recommend immediate evacuation to _Normandy_." The brief glow of the omni-tool as it dispensed Medi-gel showed hollows in the turian's form. "Older, not as biologically resilient as could be wished. Been tortured Shepared." The last was said with the whisper of distress.

"Do what you can for him, we need to be able to move him quickly or none of us will get out of here." Shepard knelt down along with her fellow biotic to assist Mordin in applying the life-saving gel. "How long before that gap re-occurs?"

"Nine minutes, eighteen seconds." As usual, Mordin did not pause in his emergency first-aid.

"Miranda kill that light. Here is what we are going to do."

* * *

><p>Garrus, like most turians, had three primary ways of relaxing when under stress: work, fight, or have sex. Being the only turian on a ship was. . . challenging, to say the least, but he had done it for quite a while now, and even before that, he had been working with humans at C-Sec- so he coped with stress by doing prep-work for the next fight they would inevitably encounter. He had already cleaned his sniper rifle three times, and now he was calibrating each of the <em>Normandy<em>'s guns by hand; i.e. without EDI's help.

Shepard had offered to help with reliving his 'tension' before they made their suicide run on the Omega 4 relay, but she wasn't here to help him ease tension now. His talons clacked across the deck plates as he began to pace in agitation. EDI also would not tell him WHY he had been ordered to remain on the ship. All she would say was, 'there has been a threat identified toward you and Shepard has gone to neutralize the threat'. He had a sneaking suspicion that EDI had decided that the probabilities were too high that he'd run off the ship, orders be damned, if he knew the whole of it.

Damn, he had been planning to go out to the markets and see if he could find something special for her. He knew she wasn't sleeping well, and every waking moment she was working on something. Garrus knew Shepard, and she was not going to stop working unless someone made her. But now she was gone from the ship, not recovered from their suicide run, without him there to watch her six.

Garrus tried to get back to focusing on his calibrations, and tried not to feel each muscle in his back lock.

* * *

><p>Torbin was feeling skittish; not particularly unusual for any of the Eclipse mercenaries the last few months or so. The group was trying desperately to fill the large number of mid-rank vacancies created by the nightmarish human who seemed to pick fights with them just for fun. First, here on Omega the mercenary groups had been plagued by that Archangel bastard. The issues had cost them considerable product, credits, and lives, to the point where they had formed that foolhardy alliance between themselves, the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack. He had been out securing a rather large shipment of red sand at the time, and when he had left he had been sure he would return to an Omega that had gone back to the way it was supposed to be. He had gotten some reports initially that stated that the plague had been brought under control and someone had finally found a cure- though his cheerfulness was doused by wet and cold reality when he returned to their hideout to discover the number dead. His only salve was the Blue Suns and Blood Pack had been hit just as hard, if not harder, so the balance of power remained un-shifted. Then Aria's men had come around, after her somehow discovering the plot against her. Moving the shipment of the biotic stimulant became horrendously slow. In his many hours of hiding he had done what digging on the extra-net he could and discovered that a Spectre of all things had intervened, gutting their operation seemingly as an afterthought.<p>

Then he got a message from his cousin.

Three high profile, higher paying jobs had each gone horribly sour; because a human Spectre had intervened. Torbin still was trying to grasp the body count. Then there was what happened to Donovan Hock. It just did not bear thinking about.

Each 'problem' had one similarity- a human seemed to have taken offense at the merc presence; the nasty twist was there was no reason for the human (or the Spectres for that matter) to be there. This was the Terminus Systems! The council's authority didn't extend here, but no one wanted to talk about it. Mixed in with all the rumors was the whisper that the human Spectre Shepard was alive. Torbin didn't believe it himself, Spectres had no reason to fake their deaths, and the human Alliance would not have downplayed the rumors so desperately and completely if they weren't true. This did not mean this human wasn't working with a Spectre though. Their much reciprocated hatred of batarians was no secret, and batarians ran though two of the three major merc groups on Omega. The idea nearly made the salarian loose his lunch.

Now, there was this unfortunate business with that turian. He'd been against the idea from the start- Archangel may be dead, but if a Spectre and their company could take on as many of the Eclipse and their specialized sub-sections as the facts seemed to suggest, they should have been hiding in the deepest, darkest hole they could find and praying that the human and their Spectre friend did not come back and finish the job. Revenge was not worth it.

He was on his way to tell his boss just that when he heard a shuffle in the dark in front of him.

The lone armor-clad human woman stared at him with leveling eyes, almost as if she had been waiting for him. His combat training might have kicked in, but even as he leveled his gun, the N7 insignia on her armor, the eerie red glow behind her eyes, and her scars caught his eye. They were three of the few common descriptions reported by the survivors of every attack on the Eclipse members, but he'd never really believed it might have been ONE individual behind everything. Now he saw her face, and realized why she was so familiar to him. Discounting the unholy glowing scars and judging eyes, this was the face of Spectre Commander Shepard- her face had been all over the vids almost three years ago. He froze as his mind juggled juxtaposing facts, before he belatedly realized she was casually tossing something that flickered with the blue of biotics his way. The container slammed into his torso and instinctively he struggled to catch and hold onto it. He looked up for just a moment to see the hovering form of the human spectre, swathed in blue, with a smile that did nothing to warm her eyes. The abstract and horrifying beauty caused all thoughts to empty out of his head but one. Briefly he remembered the definitions and variations on the human word "Archangel"- one of them had alluded to an "Angel of Death". Aloft in the air, she leveled her pistol at him and fired at the explosive barrel she'd nonchalantly tossed into him, even as another pistol to his left went off- sealing the off duty and sleeping Eclipse members in their barracks as they fired in unison.

The resulting screams, flames, and gunfire hid the escaping form of one salarian doctor and one unconscious turian very well.


	2. Chapter 2: Recalculating

Author's Note: When writing this story, the first name of Commander Shepard has been deliberately omitted. Contains a Spacer/War Hero Fem!Shep who took no lover in ME1and decided to test her "flexibility" with Garrus in ME2. If the interspecies thing gives you the icks then go no further, there are many other fantastic Mass Effect fan-fictions out there. Please read and review, as I am threatening to become stuck, and would really appreciate some constructive criticism.

_ Disclaimer: No characters in the following fan-fiction belong to the authoress, but instead belong to Bioware or their prospective owners. The authoress takes no responsibility to any relation to anything, living or dead, as it is purely coincidental. _

**Waypoint:**

Chapter Two: Recalculating

"_Treat your men as you would your own beloved sons, and they will follow you into the deepest valley."_

_ -Sun Tzu, "The Art of War"_

Shepard and Miranda limped back to the _Normandy_ together, shortly inflicting chaos, panic, and destruction on the remaining Eclipse mercs. Miranda had been slightly too close to the explosion, and had taken a slight singe after her shields had popped. Shepard sported a black eye from where one of the guards had smacked her in the face with his gun.

"EDI, did Samara get the information about the ride we secured for her?" Shepard asked as the two of them stood in the de-contamination room, waiting out the cycle.

"Samara sends her thanks Shepard. I took the liberty of doing some 'research' before passing the information along," the Commander had to smile at the way EDI somehow managed quotation marks, "Zaeed even vouched for the vessel she boarded." Shepard smiled, and then winced as it pulled on the purpleing skin.

"I warned you to wear a helmet," Miranda chided as the door opened and they boarded together.

"You warned me about a lot of things. 'Don't wake up the krogan, Shepard', 'Let's send the geth to Cerberus to hack up, Shepard'. Heck, you wanted install a joystick for the Illusive man!" Shepard joked back before catching herself on her clumsy words- Miranda was still a little sensitive about how she had judged Shepard wrongly, and she was not entirely sure how her XO felt about their leaving Cerberus.

To her relief, Miranda only laughed. "You have to admit it would have been easier. No pesky geth platform, no revenge-obsessed criminal, no unshackled A.I., no crazy teenage krogan," then Miranda sobered, "And in the end, no _Normandy_- and no victory."

The Spectre reached out and squeezed Miranda's shoulder in solidarity. "It's ok, you're only human. Nobody's perfect." Miranda responded by punching back.

* * *

><p>Despite the rather unfortunate "side mission", Miranda and Shepard ended up back on board approximately one half hour before being due to leave. Out of long habit, she had washed her face and hair and made herself presentable before directing them to their next destination for some light probe-mining to hopefully lubricate their light cash savings.<p>

The trip to sickbay was relatively short. Doctor Chakwas was already in the process of treating their injured guest, and the Commander waved one hand at the good Doc as she passed by. She would see to their guest soon enough; their local turian deserved to know what was going on after being stuck on the ship for a day and a half.

Garrus was still fine tuning the main cannon and every other gun the _Normandy_ possessed- not surprising due to the damage done by their mission. Shepard knew he also did it because he wanted the ship to be in a constant "ready" position, and by his logic "if nothing else is at 100%, the guns damn well better be." It was hard to argue with that. The "issues" had sabotaged her sleep however, and she longed to rest until they reached Illium- but no doubt Garrus wanted to know what had kept her away from the _Normandy_ for so long. It was unlikely he had noticed their latest arrival in sickbay; he had taken to keeping the doors shut.

The warmth from the Main Battery flushed her cheeks momentarily as she opened the door. Garrus did not even look up from his work, only asking if she needed him for anything in an oddly flat tone- at least for turians.

"Garrus, I wanted to talk about what happened," Shepard started, slightly off put by the strangely unfriendly tone.

"Oh no, Commander, it's none of my business if you decide to order me to stay aboard at our first shore leave after a mission where all of us nearly died. You're the one in charge here," he stabbed forcefully at a few offending pads at his terminal.

"Garrus, that's not-"

"Oh no," he interrupted- speaking faster now, betraying his agitation, and still not looking at her, "you're so sure of me that I'm not even allowed to leave the ship when everyone else has been given leave to abandon the ship and our mission. Nor do I need to know why, you-"

"Vakarian!" Shepard snapped, her lips going white from the blood being forced away from them. "This is MY ship, and I will run it how I see fit." She took a steadying breath reaching for calm, "Now, I was going to tell you that we have a turian on board, and I was going to ask if you knew him."

Old Garrus, who had been the disenfranchised cop who helped her take down Saren would have stumbled over an apology. Post-Omega Garrus suddenly rounded on her, "Now that is a notably racist thought. Clearly because I am turian, I know ALL turains! Are you going to ask Liara if she knows Aria's family dirt when you get to Nos Astra, because I think-"

"Vakarian-" she reached out and grabbed a hand's worth of the undamaged collar on his armor, yanked him toward her with surprising force, and hissed in his face with quiet and deadly intent, "You. Sickbay. Now." She then shoved him back and turned boot, expecting him to follow her without looking back.

Shepard heard his quiet footsteps behind her as she stalked toward sickbay. It was just as well it was so close, because she was convinced that if she had to speak to anyone who was not Doctor Chakwas, they were probably going to get thrown across the mess hall.

The older human was humming to herself as she stalked around the patient, juggling charts. The low grade mass effect field restraints were in place, and the doctors had likely decided to keep the injured turian sedated for everyone's safety. They had not dared try to take him to another clinic- no place on Omega was as safe as the _Normandy_, and they did not want to endanger Daniel's clinic. The doctor broke off her hum and immediately turned to face them.

"Commander, I ran his specs though the Citadel database and just got a hit. Apparently he is a retired C-Sec officer by the name of-"

"Father?" Garrus gasped behind her in astonishment, cutting the doctor off.

For approximately five seconds not a word was uttered. Shepard did not dare say anything, as the rage she felt made her taste bile in the back of her mouth. No, she thought, as some minor process began screaming the old "serenity prayer" in her head, anything she said would just be-

"No turian knows any other? How racist of me," She spat, still not looking at her Gunnery Officer. She almost shook with the effort of holding in the rest of the venom that threatened to cause a scene. She was hurt, exhausted, and not nearly recovered from the run on the Omega 4 Relay to deal with delicate, interpersonal reactions with any finesse after one of the people she trusted had just verbally attacked her. The worst part was she knew it, and could not trust herself to take back the angry words. Her whole body stiff, she whipped around and stalked past Garrus, not trusting herself to look at him with her control so frayed. She missed Garrus' horrified reaction and Dr. Chakwas' concern in her hasty exit.

Years of training in the Alliance military kept her face a stone mask, and the trials of being a Spectre kept her body language from alerting the rest of the crew to her distress by the time the medical lab's door shut behind her. Yet, the young and idealistic girl who had somehow survived it all still wept somewhere deep down, where even Shepard herself could barely hear.

* * *

><p>Shepard had settled in her quarters after locking the door, and had tried very hard to sleep after the hot shower she'd taken. After what had seemed like one thousand slow counts of her heartbeat laying in bed, she'd found herself on her feet again. Several repetitions of this had her longing to go down and fetch something from Gardner- but her thirst was eclipsed by her desire not to deal with anyone for a while; for just a few hours to not have someone wanting something from her. Now the crew wanted her leadership more than ever, and she just wished to recharge her batteries before dealing with them- her body was not obliging her, however.<p>

Eventually she found herself sitting cross-legged in front of her fish, with her Prothean paper weight heavy in her lap, her hands inter-laced around it's smoothness. After a while her mind became blessedly empty; and even if it was not sleeping, it was a decent second. Her distress felt distant, and she found herself considering the happenstance she found herself in. Clearly if meditation brought her this much focus, even half trained, she needed to continue with the few pointers Samara had left her with to practice.

After a time, she heard the door to her quarters open. Nonplussed, she waited patiently, and was rewarded by Garrus settling quietly beside her. They sat together for a while, watching her fish swimming about their tank, oblivious to them.

Finally, "I locked the door," she the told the fish, not taking her eyes off of them doing their slow laps in confinement.

"I know," her turian replied with equal calm. "EDI let me in."

She laughed quietly, surprising them both with the lack of bitterness, "I guess I don't have any privacy, huh?"

"Not with an A.I. on board, I'm afraid," Garrus paused, "I spoke to Dr. Chakwas- after Miranda blistered my ears of course. I believe the good doctor said something to her so she would not have to do it herself." He took a deep breath, and when he began again, it was with quiet humility. "I am sorry, Shepard. I was so worked up with nerves that I just took the first target that presented itself like a green rookie. I know better than that; what's more, I know you. You had a good reason to keep me on board, and good reason for audio silence."

"How is your father Garrus?" she asked after a moment.

"That old cop is too stubborn to die," they both chose to ignore the false bravado in his tone, "The doctor says they will take him off the sedatives in a day or two- just long enough for the Medi-gel to do it's job, now that we know he isn't likely to be a ticking time bomb- not that a little thing like mental instability has stopped you before."

She inclined herself slightly in his direction, "Sanity will only get you so far, you know." She sighed, her mind still slightly twisted by unusual feelings, "Garrus? I'm sorry too, I lost my temper and the only excuse I can give you is a lack of sleep. Forgive?"

His talons took her hand, and pulled her against his chest. "Forgiven."

At some point later, Garrus took the orb from her and gathered her close. When he felt she was deeply enough asleep he lifted her up and laid her in bed. Despite their sharing a bed since just before going into the Omega 4 Relay, he still could not get over how small and light she was. By unspoken agreement, neither of them named the emotion that may-or-may-not-be shared; it would not be fair to either of them when tomorrow was uncertain. For his part, Garrus tried not to think about it, though that was harder to do when she slept. He pulled the covers up to her chin, like he had seen her do, and quietly exited the captain's cabin.

"Thank you EDI," he said to the air as he set the elevator to go back to the crew quarters, and the medical lab.

"You are welcome, Garrus." A part of him was not quite over the fact that she was now calling the whole crew occasionally by their first names, but only just. Shepard had made it clear that EDI was another crew member, and the rest had taken her lead. Truthfully, the crew members who had been abducted by the Collectors were in too much of a daze to really comment one way or another, and by the time they had sorted themselves out it would have become a habit.

When the doors opened again, Garrus walked into the medical lab and settled into a nearby chair next to his father to continue his vigil before his shift started again.

* * *

><p>When the commander awoke, she was not surprised that Garrus was not there. If she was a little disappointed, she shoved the unworthy thought away in the morning rituals of washing up, and prepping for the day ahead. Although she paused for a moment when she realized she had nearly taken her coffee to the observation deck. She really was going to miss those no longer with her, even if she could not ask the unwilling to stay.<p>

After the excruciatingly long ride to the CIC, she relieved Miranda from command and began making plans on what they were going to do in the week before they were expected at Illium. First and foremost on everyone's mind was what they were going to do for credits to finish repairing the ship and resupply; not to mention the pay for the crew. They had a good quantity of high grade eezo, but Shepard wanted a decent amount of other minerals or gas to sell when they got to port.

"Commander," Kelly called out as she and her XO walked by, "You have a new message at your private terminal."

She waved Jacob and Miranda on to take a glance at her e-mail. Besides the spam that Kelly had been ignoring was an e-mail from Admiral Hackett. 'Hmm,' Shepard thought to herself, 'I have not heard from him in a while. I wonder what he wants.'

The message was framed as a polite request, with the quiet steel of an order, which made her smile to herself. Being a Spectre on unspecified assignment meant she could probably get away with giving an equally polite and steely 'Bug off!' The amusing thought died a violent death when she re-read the name of the ship the Admiral wanted her to meet up with in three days time.

"Damn."

* * *

><p>The first thing he noticed was the cold. The room was uncomfortably chilly, though there was no breeze. His eyelids were heavy, and he had to assume the enemies were waiting for some sign of alertness; these seconds before his consciousness was noticed were crucial if he were to escape. He listened carefully, and heard the monitors attached to him giving alerts as well as the footsteps of one individual, although they were either extremely light of foot or not very large. Someone was making some sort of sounds- perhaps music? It sounded human- female perhaps. Odd- because none of his captors had been human females, though he had to allow the fact that he had never seen them all. The room smelled different too; either that or his nose had finally broken under the foul smells that had surrounded him for so long and he was finally used to it.<p>

Quietly, and as subtly as he was capable, he tried to move one arm- and found he could not. He paused for a moment, trying to feel for any restraints and feeling none, he tried again.

"Officer Vakarian?" the voice came close to the right side of his head, "Officer Vakarian, you are safe now- you are on the SR-2 _Normandy_. Wake up now, the sedatives should be wearing off. Don't try to move yet, we have restrained you so you do not re-open your wounds." The presence touched his head, then ran over his fringe impersonally before it moved away from him again. "EDI," it said, facing away from him, "Alert the Commander."

"Already done, Doctor." A slightly metallic voice replied; a V.I. perhaps?

The presence moved back toward him, though it seemed to circle him now. "Open your eyes Officer. You are starting to worry me, and I can't take the restraining field down until I know you are awake and not befuddled by the drugs."

Sure enough, a human woman was leaning over him as he opened his eyes. She appeared to be older, if he judged the signs of human aging correctly. Her hair was a silver-white color, with large green eyes, and wrinkles. He felt the subtle pressure of the field disappear, and the woman reached out to assist him with slowly sitting up.

"My name is Doctor Chakwas, and I am the chief medical officer aboard the _Normandy_. I have some pretty extensive experience with turian biology, so we should have you on your feet shortly. The Medi-gel should have done a decent job with your wounds, but I want you to go ahead and feel if anything in particular is bothering you."

Retired C-Sec Officer Vakarian flexed both mandibles, followed by a slow rolling of all muscles starting from his head and heading downward. He felt stiff and a little sore still, and he told her so. '_Normandy_- that was the ship Garrus served on before it was destroyed. Is there a connection?'

"Yes, that is to be expected. Now you will want to-" the door hissed as it opened causing him to jump and the doctor with the strange accent to simply glance in it's direction. "Commander," she greeted with a salute as she was joined by another human woman. Unlike the doctor, this one's stance was almost threatening- not because she was trying to be, but because this human likely spent her days taking people apart and it was an ingrained habit. It also spoke of leadership- "commander" was a rank the human military used, but that symbol on their uniform was not the Alliance, it was familiar. . .

"So," he rasped at them, "I assume you are the ones who rescued me from the Eclipse Mercenaries. What does Cerberus want with an old cop?"

The humans exchanged a look. The leader-female began to laugh. "We, ah, quit Cerberus a few days ago. In a most spectacular way, I might add. Not that you'll hear about it on the news vids. I am Commander Shepard, by the way." She extended a hand out in friendly greeting.

The name was jarring, though he had begun to half-wonder if that was who she was himself. Shepard was the name of the human Spectre who had saved the council; that was how most of the rest of the galaxy thought of her. He, however, knew her as the upstart who had run off with his son and corrupted his good turian upbringing. After that whole mess with Saren, he had returned to C-sec, much to his father's relief, but something had happened to his good son when word hit that she had died. The reports were that she had gone down with the ship, and Garrus had gone a little crazy. He had pulled some strings, and found out that Garrus had quit (or been fired- the rookie bureaucrat he'd spoken to had been unclear on that point) C-Sec again, and had dropped off the radar entirely. His daughter sometimes dropped hints that she was in contact with him; but he had been busy trying to cope with his wife's illness. He waited- Garrus would contact him eventually, and say the whole thing was a mistake, and come back to serve in his father's footsteps. He had waited for a year before leaving his mate in the care of Solana, trying to find his son and drag him back forcibly if necessary to be beside his mother. His trolling around on Omega looking for his son had been unpleasant at bare minimum and that was before the Eclipse Mercs had picked him up. Finding out your child was killed by the people who killed him was probably the worse experience in his whole life to date- and he had seen some very nasty things in his work on the citadel.

But for her, the reason for his son's deviancy, to be standing there- alive and well, after everything his son had done for her? Some things could not be borne. There was one other matter to attend to however, and this was the person to ask- as much as it galled him.

He would ignore the proffered hand though. "Commander Shepard- the same human Spectre?"

Shepard withdrew her hand and assumed a "formal leader mode" posture, likely taking his standoffishness for being overly polite. "Yes, that's me."

"While my captors were integrating me, I was lead to believe you were there when they took down Archangel." He hoped fervently that he would not have to become more specific than that. He was not sure he could maintain a polite facial position for that long.

Her puzzled expression made him growl softly. "His body," he somehow bit out beyond clenched teeth and stiff mandibles. "I need to return it so the ceremonies can be observed." Did this human not even remember his son? If not-

Shepard gestured sharply to the doctor, and the older human exited the room. "Sir, there is no need for any laying to rest procedures. We-"

"No," he interrupted hissing, "My son will be buried by turians, according to our customs, and not some above-the-law, reckless, trouble-making human spectre and their idea of proper laying to rest."

Before he could launch into the tirade he was warming up to, the door opened again, and the doctor rushed back in with a turian in tow. "Commander," a familiar voice said, "the doctor says he's awake and-"

Commander Shepard grabbed Chakwas, and pushed the doctor behind her. The two turians stared each other down, Garrus's father in open confusion, Garrus in confusion over his father's confusion. After a moment, both schooled their faces into the polite and distant positions.

"Garrus," his father said after a moment spent carefully studying his son, "I thought you were dead. What happened to your face?"

Garrus shrugged with deceptive casualness, and turned the scared and bandaged side of his cheek away from his father, "Took a rocket to the face; nothing that some medi-gel and some additional paint couldn't fix. What were you doing on Omega? Mom is sick."

"I was trying to find you. You haven't had any communication with the family and-"

The Commander cleared her throat, bring a halt of the airing of dirty family laundry which might cause trouble later. "OK, I understand you two have some catching up to do. Garrus, would you please escort your father to the Observation Deck, assuming the good doctor will allow him to be up for a while?" She waited for Dr. Chakwas' nod. "Samara is not using it, so you should have some privacy there. Calibrations can wait for a while, alright?"

Garrus looked shocked, "Commander, I was not going to abandon my post." He seemed slightly affronted at the idea. Shepard gave him The Look. Garrus coughed. "Right this way, father."

"Are you alright, Commander?" Dr. Chakwas asked from behind her once they were gone.

"Yes," she replied after a few moments looking at the door they had just exited from. "But I have a feeling that the next few days are going to be very unpleasant."

* * *

><p>Garrus was not back by the time Shepard headed to bed, not that she expected him to be. He and his dad would have a lot of catching up to do, after all. She spent some time with her sketches again, even though she had already been over them to the point she felt her eyes would start bleeding.<p>

When she set those aside, she spent some time with one of the books on various Asari literature Liara had sent her, absently listening to the space hamster running on his wheel and the fish completing their lazy laps around the tanks. She hoped to find something that either Jack or Grunt would find interesting- heaven knew neither of them had a childhood to speak of. Some of the old literature might have what she was looking for, but a long-lived race tended to change less over time in terms of culture. "Old" was relative when dealing with asari.

When she finished the book, she paced for a while. Then she took her Prothean coffee table ornament and meditated in front of her fish tank. Though it was resting, it was not sleeping. Sleeping would bring the nightmares, of that she was certain.

The next morning, fully caffeinated, Shepard asked Joker to lay in a course for the Caleston Rift.

"Uhm, Commander, not that I mind burning fuel for the hell of it, but isn't the Caleston Rift in the exact opposite way from the Cresent Nebula and Illium?" Joker asked from his chair.

"Oh come on Joker, I thought you said you could make the_ Normandy_ dance for me. Can't you do it while saving fuel?"

EDI's holographic image lit up on her left. "Shepard, he is a little heavy on the gas to be fuel efficient. Perhaps we could earn some credits by drag racing in the Attican Traverse." Shepard coughed. EDI paused. "That is a joke."

"EDI, please do NOT give Joker any ideas!" Shepard took a deep breath, "Any thoughts on the events at Omega?"

"Please, Commander. As if we could resist another stick-up-his-ass turian to join our party of merry men! Maybe he could play uncle to Grunt."

She watched as Joker laid in the corrections to head for the nearest mass relay. "Well, we are going to pick up someone else. Be prepared for a rendezvous with the SSV _Orizaba_ in two days time. They're being refitted."

"What is this? A petting zoo?"

* * *

><p>Officer Vakarian had wandered around the odd ship he'd awoken on, looking for enemies and lies out of old and life-saving habit; though his restriction to non-combat, non-critical sections of the <em>Normandy<em> made prowling a little more difficult. The crew was unfailingly polite to him, which was odd because he knew Cerberus was a pro-human terrorist cell. The implications of his son working with them were disturbing, to say the very least. They had set him up in one of the observation decks, somewhat near the crew, but far enough away he could at least pretend he had some privacy. They had adjusted the environment to be warmer for him, and the Mess Sergeant had made a point of showing him the color coding system he used to keep the dextro-protein food separate from the rest of the crew's.

The _Normandy_ was a beautiful ship, if his judgment served, but the damage was heart-breaking, according to the various techs he over heard as he wandered around the ship. The whole crew was putting in extra time to try to fix the ship themselves. The fact that they were tight on credits was easy to find out as well as the reason- apparently telling off your employer was not a good idea if you had a very expensive ship to fix. He had not heard anyone complain about not being with Cerberus anymore, though he could also tell the crew seemed in no mood to hear about it if someone WAS in the mood to complain. The whole crew was slightly on edge. Garrus had told his father they were expected at Illium soon, and the crew would need some prolonged shore leave. He wondered about his son's motivations for being on the ship- Garrus had been telling him bare facts, and only when pressed. All he knew was that the ship's mission was "very important", it was dealing with an issue that "would affect everyone", and their last mission had been "very dangerous".

The whole thing had something to do with the mythical "Collectors", though he'd only found out about it because one of the engineers had mistaken him for his son before looking at the opposite side of his face. The young human's face had turned an interesting shade of red before mumbling some apology and pointedly ignoring him for the terminal he was re-wiring. His face had looked positively haunted for just a moment, and the turian wondered if it had been too long since he'd been forced to be around humans. The only exception seemed to be Shepard herself- she had positively strange body language, but there were at least parts that he understood. Not unusual, perhaps, when he took into account the number of aliens she worked with on a regular basis. He would, however, get to the bottom of what was going on- even if he had to tear apart the broken ship to do it.

Trying to dig up more data than he had initially discovered during the first three shifts the crew worked was like trying to teach manners to a vorcha. He wondered if maybe the humans had passed along the information that he was trying to dig up what they were up to. Perhaps he had not been as subtle as he should have been- his fault for thinking of them as 'young', even subconsciously. The individualism of humanity was in direct conflict with the turian belief in unity. It made his species look at theirs as undisciplined and wild children cavorting across the universe with dangerous weapons. Perhaps that was the real reason his species could not really get along with theirs. Garrus' father sighed. He was not usually this philosophical- but he had been doing some surveillance on the captain of the _Normandy_, and he had caught her beating critical thinking and philosophy into the brains of multiple individuals on board. He had to admit the Spectre had a powerful voice and a sharp mind- listening to her argue morality with a krogan had been fascinating in a way; however the krogan's presence on the ship made him more nervous. Shepard's enemies tended to show up dead, and he was determined to discover what secret the whole of the _Normandy_ was determined to keep from him. He was so deep in thought that he almost missed the tell-tale scrape of boots on the deck plates nearby. Long years of practice at stake outs snapped his focus back to the present. He heard Commander Shepard's voice, though it was a decent distance away; Garrus' voice joined hers and after a moment they came into view.

The retired C-Sec cop might not be able to read human body language very well, but he damn well knew his son's. The way he crowded her space and leaned over her slightly said volumes, and his mandibles were in the 'open and friendly' position. The fact that he was almost whispering to her, which his father knew he only did when dealing with an intense emotion. None of it was appropriate with one's human commanding officer, their squeamishness was legendary, but with a lover? Suddenly the expression "boiling blood" that the humans had made perfect sense. Ironic that.

* * *

><p>They had passed though a mass relay before the older turian decided which human to pressure. Quietly he longed for a partner to play the game with, so getting information would be easier; humans called it "good cop, bad cop". Every species had a version, but whatever anyone called it, it was damn effective. He settled for going after what appeared to be the weakest link in the chain.<p>

The engineers were always within sight on one another, and he had to get his "informant" alone. The pilot never seemed to leave the cockpit, and he couldn't justify pulling him out of his seat for as long as he assumed would be necessary, the man was disabled somehow. The techs moved in massive groups from one problem to another, and never seemed to allow for one to get peeled off. The doctor who had treated his wounds only looked fragile. He'd done a little prying at her and discovered she had far more gizzard than he'd given her credit for- plus his conscience would not allow him to be TOO cruel to her. Even if only on one level, she had helped him back on his feet, and he just could not bring himself to go at her all out. The rest of the crew also stayed in tight groups together, like spooked pyjak. The irregular crew members, what Garrus had offhandedly called "The Squad" were made up of individuals who each looked quite deadly in their own right; at least the ones he had met thus far.

No, there was only one human who bounced from group to group, who was friends with everyone (and likely to know information), and was expected by no one. The personality was perfect as well- somewhat traumatized like the rest of the _Normandy's_ crew, but overly positive- showing a likely physiological need to please, and likely easier to get information out of without resorting to some rather harsh methods. The fact that she was the yeoman to the captain was even better. All he had to do was get Kelly Chambers alone.

* * *

><p>Six hours later Shepard was washing dirt and grime from her hands and face from crawling around in the engine room with Gabby and Donnelly. They had been showing her the minor damage that they had not been able to fix with the spare parts they had, some salvaged from the former Cerberus bugs that had been scattered around the ship. Standing orders were to bring the bugs to Tali or Legion, no questions asked. Between the quarian, who had a genius for salvaging parts, and the two human engineers they had managed to fix a surprising amount on their own. Now they were down to the repairs they could not do themselves, and the three of them had been delighted by their captain's request to be shown exactly what was wrong and what they needed to fix it.<p>

Then the three of them presented her fixed tablet with all the flourish of a surprise birthday party- sans the naked male coming out of the cake. Shepard was delighted; even if her crew was a little needy, they still were the best. They felt like HER crew now, with even EDI assisting Legion with the removal of all foreign surveillance equipment. Soon, she would relax just a little, having taken care of the monster that had been living under all of their beds. The Illusive Man may still be hiding in someone's closet, but at least they would not have to worry about him being inside their ship.

Kelly had apparently laid out her dress uniform while feeding her fish. Somehow that little minx had picked up that this meeting was important. Thank God for small favors. Hopefully the two members of family Vakarian would not get into spats while their other guest was here- although the idea of shooting everyone, or herself was beginning to sound very tempting.

A lifetime ago, Tali had given her a decorative hair comb before she had returned to the Flotilla to complete her Pilgrimage. She had left it by accident at the Citadel when they had gone out for that fateful mission, and apparently Anderson had kept it. She had never been sure if Tali had seen it and thought it would look good on her, or if Tali had made it herself in her spare time. She would have to remember to ask. After applying the make up that she rarely wore to hide her scars, she moved to the bed to pull on her dress uniform. Her hands caught on an unfamiliar patch, and as she turned the "shirt" portion over, she saw the Cerberus icon had been carefully removed and a new symbol was in its' place. Her fingers traced the patch lovingly, wondering how long it had been there- and who had designed the concept.

"Commander Shepard," EDI chimed, "We are on final approach for rendezvous with the SSV _Orizaba_."

"Thank you EDI, have the crew on standby." Shepard moved to start the climb down in the elevator.

* * *

><p>Their guest came alone, which was just as well. Despite her hair being as white as Dr. Chakwas', she moved with more purpose and vigor, her eyes both frank and amused. The crew saluted her as she moved briskly down the short corridor they made with their bodies, but her eyes were clearly on one person only.<p>

"Captain Hannah Shepard of the Alliance Dreadnaught _Orizaba_ requesting to come aboard Commander," she called cheerfully, setting the bag she carried to one side and sketching a salute.

Commander Shepard returned the salute crisply. "Permission granted." Their guest left her bags near Mess Sergeant Gardner and moved forward with her arms open, and the Commander met the embrace of the older woman easily. "Welcome aboard, Mother."


	3. Chapter 3: TrackBack

Author's Note: Life has been crazy, and I have ran all out of buffer, so chapter four might be late. I will try very hard to make sure it's not, but no promises. Many thanks to my husband: my semi-willing beta-reader. I am, however, in desperate need of constructive criticism, so please take the time to leave an opinion where you feel I can improve.

When writing this story, the first name of Commander Shepard has been deliberately omitted. If the inter-species romance contained herein offends you- then go no further gentle reader, there are many other fantastic Mass Effect fan-fictions out there. Mommy Shepard and Daddy Vakarian are major extrapolations on what little we know about them, so a great deal of their personality is up to interpretation. Please feel free to leave your thoughts.

_ Disclaimer: No characters in the following fan-fiction belong to the authoress, but instead belong to Bioware or their prospective owners. The authoress takes no responsibility to any relation to anything, living or dead, as it is purely coincidental. _

**Waypoint:**

Chapter Three: Track-Back

"_You are, all of you, vermin. Cowering in the dirt, thinking... what? That you might escape the coming fire? Your world will burn until its surface is but glass!"_

_ -Prophet of Truth, "Halo 3"_

Garrus paused in his calibrations while his father paced aggressively behind him, the younger turian counting very slowly to thirty-six under his breath. He had seen Shepard do this when dealing with the human ambassador, and it seemed to help her concentrate. All it seemed to do for him, however, was slightly lessen the desire to toss his father out the airlock. His father seemed to be chomping at the proverbial bit (though what a bit was, Shepard had never told him), and was choosing to take it out on his son. Several crew members had already warned him that his father was snooping around- and his father had never handled misdirection well.

If the turian noticed the stiff back he was getting, he ignored it to launch fully into his rant. "I knew that human was no good for you! Humanity was not ready to join the galactic community, much less the Council! Having a human Specter is beyond any tolerance. Not only do Specters have too much power and not enough oversight, but how are they supposed to trust a race that hasn't even been in space as long as a single asari lifetime? It's clear they can't handle it- and _that_ human has been having delusions sense BEFORE they made her a Spectre! I can't imagine-"

Garrus kept his back turned away from his father. The old turian seemed to always know when his son was thinking rebellious thoughts, and at the moment juries could convict him on his fantasies alone. Maybe he could arrange a run-in with Jack? No one would suspect a thing.

* * *

><p>"You will have to forgive the mess, Mom," Shepard mumbled, feeling like her mother was about to do an inspection of her room like she did when she was fifteen. "The message was rather sudden, and we just finished a mission. My yeoman has prepared my quarters for your stay here."<p>

The older human woman smiled at her daughter's form in front of her, "No honey, I am not taking your quarters. Besides not being polite, I want plausible deniability when that politician Udina comes sauntering around and wants to grill me for information."

"Mom, that's really not necessary-"

From behind her, Hannah Shepard waved off her daughter's objections. When on duty, the two of them walked identically, a measured pace to give the impression of confidence and capability. Many of the qualities the Council looked for in a Spectre, one of the other of her parents had; though some key traits were not there in large enough quantity or were not as sharply honed as in their offspring. "How much can you tell me?" her mother asked as they passed by the cargo hold door, which was open at that moment so the crew that was working trying to salvage usable parts had space to organize what they found.

Her daughter raised one eyebrow. "How much do you want to know?" The older Shepard gave her The Look- the one she herself had perfected. "No, really; ask yourself if you really want to know. What is heard can't be unheard and all that, and frankly I can do without another person telling me I'm crazy."

"A lot of people already do think you're crazy, if only because of the aliens you like to work with. The saying about genius and madness-"

Shepard cut her off with "- is repeated too often." The commander waved one hand absently, banishing the point away. "What I want to know is why are you taking your leave now?"

Hannah shrugged casually. "The Alliance is calling an official end of the Geth incursion. The _Orizaba_ is due for a retrofit, I had some leave, and Admiral Hackett owed me a favor. I knew if you were busy, you would have said so."

The captain of the _Normandy_ schooled her features to not show the annoyance she felt. Her mother frowned anyway, somehow knowing she was annoyed. "Look Mom, there are a lot of . . . unusual people on this ship; please do not shoot them. And we really do not have guest V.I.P. quarters as I told you when I responded to your message; would you mind if I put you in the Port Observation Deck? No one is using it," she gave a significant pause, "and we currently have another guest in the Starboard Observation Deck. He has just been through a traumatic experience and may not exactly be up for company."

Hannah sighed, "Honey, I am not going to embarrass you or cause a diplomatic incident. Now I'll just set my things here, and we'll talk over dinner."

She gave her mother a hug and thought to herself 'Let's see if you are still in a good mood when you see Legion,' very quietly- hopefully where her mother could not hear it.

* * *

><p>Garrus struggled with trying to ignore his father as the older turian's rage seemed to hit a fever pitch. The <em>Normandy's <em>Gunnery Officer had tried, when he had been much smaller and more idealistic to measure up to his father's immense expectations and keep peace in their home. 'Stupid is more like it,' he thought to himself trying to listen to his father's clamor objectively and with only half an ear. 'He hasn't gotten to what's really bothering him.'

"And you're SLEEPING with her! A Human!"

Garrus' shoulders slumped momentarily. 'Spirits, there it is.' Taking one more deep breath, he waited for a break in the furious gale that was his father's active displeasure before speaking into it. "And so what if I am?"

His father stopped in the mist of taking in the next breath necessary for the lecture that had been in full swing. "Come again?" he asked incredulously, his mind trying to wrap around the quiet steel and unspoken defiance in his wayward son's voice. His mandibles stretched open slightly in shock.

"I said," his son repeated, turning slowly to face him, "so what if I am sleeping with Shepard?" Vertebra popped as Garrus straightened up to his full height, and Officer Vakarian realized for the first time that either he had lost height due to age, or his son had been some how hiding his true vertical reach, but the small child who had once hung on his every word when he had come home with stories about catching criminals and keeping innocents safe was gone, and in his place was a brooding stranger with a hefty presence.

"She's a human," he repeated dumbly shocked by Garrus' sudden change, "and a Spectre. The Alliance shows her off like some expensive babble they bought in a boutique!"

The scared face and implacable eyes stared back at him, unimpressed. "If we had a turian who had done what Shepard has, the Hierarchy would be showing her off too. In fact, Shepard would make a damn fine turian; better than many I have had the misfortune of coming across. But that is neither here nor there. Officially, the Hierarchy does not care what someone does in their private life, as long as they perform in their public life."

"Damn it, Garrus!" his father hissed, "Speak plainly and stop playing word games with me."

"Plainly," Garrus growled as he advanced on his father, "It's none of your damn business what I do or don't do with Shepard in my private life. Plus, this is not the Alliance, which officially frowns on fraternization. Now IF it were true, that would be my MATE you have been impugning without cause for the past twenty standard minutes, and I know you would have not tolerated anything what you have done just now to any of your lady-loves; serious or not." His father felt the blast of cooler air as the door sensed his proximity and assumed he wanted to leave. Garrus backed him up two paces further until he was out of the main battery. "Now, I am very busy and I would appreciate it if you would not bother me while I am working. Thank you."

The door shut with a finality that somehow made Officer Vakarian's heart heavy, and did nothing to snuff his anger. He backed away from the door that could have well been a barrier curtain his son had erected, and turned instead toward sick bay with the intent of pilfering some kind of weapon- he was in enemy territory after all. 'Yes,' he thought to himself as he chose a medical grade scalpel and hid it in his sleeve as he had seen many delinquent attempt in his carrier. 'I imagine the mercenaries were terrified of Archangel.'

* * *

><p>Commander Shepard's trip to the main battery was (thankfully) uneventful. After she poked her head into sickbay to tell the doctor to pass along the order for Legion to stay put for a while, she headed straight for Garrus' station- mostly trying to avoid the image of her as a solder in Earth's First World War, running from trench to trench. Garrus tuned as he heard someone enter the battery, and fiddle with the door in an attempt to lock it. "Father I really- Oh, Commander!" He saluted; feeling a little flustered and strained by the constant arguments he had been having with his parent ever since he had been brought up from the sedatives.<p>

Shepard wrinkled her nose at him, in an odd mix of turrian and human expression. "Your dad?" In the red light Garrus noticed the quiet strain around her eyes that matched his, somehow. "

Your mom?" The two of them shrugged off the cloaks of complete competence they both wore for the sake of the crew and spoke in unison. "Parents!"

Truly the most foul word in any language.

* * *

><p>"You have some very nice quarters, dear." Hannah Shepard was admiring the "fleet" of model ships her daughter displayed. Like the rest of the ship, the captain's quarters had little touches of luxury, although the Cerberus symbol could be seen almost everywhere. The crew did not wear it however, and the older woman wondered about the mixed stories the wounded ship was telling her.<p>

"Thanks mom, the cabin was . . . more than I expected." The younger Shepard paced around her quarters restlessly, looking for something.

Her mother watched the tenseness of her movements and the way she rolled one shoulder."You said you 'just finished a mission'. What do you mean by 'just'?"

"About a week," her daughter retrieved what she had been looking for and set the bottle of tequila in front of her mother. "It was extremely high risk."

Hannah pretended to study the bottle, and asked nonchalantly, "Does your crew know you were assigned to bring Cerberus down?"

Commander Shepard gave her mother a strange look, "Mom, what makes you say that-"she sighed, "Never mind, I think I know."

"Well, infiltrating Cerberus and stealing their technology and intel is pretty high risk."

"Not like this. What you just outlined would have been a comparative walk in the park, even if the organization allowed for it. They're a splinter cell group and humanity knows, from very bloody experience, that organizational structures like that are extremely hard to root out." She began to pace a little, stress beginning its subtle winding like a hundred year old and cheaply made toy.

"So, why were you with Cerberus? And why fake your own death to do it?"

The captain of the _Normandy_ leaned back in her chair, becoming distant for a moment. She stood up, and walked toward the back of the room. Before her mother could ask what she was doing, a heavy object landed in her lap.

"Honey, this is your old helmet, right?"

"Right." Her daughter nodded with little more than a jerk of her chin. "Take a good look at it and tell me what you think is wrong with it."

She turned the gray and red piece of armor in her hands, studying it carefully- though for what, she was not sure. Then, as she turned the helmet over a third time, the nail on her right pinky-finger caught a rough edge where there should be none. She ran both hands down the air tubes and discovered cracks, and on the back section where she had before discounted the damage as cosmetic, she saw evidence of a blow that had compromised the integrity of the oxygen flow. An icy chill crept deep into her chest as the conflicting evidence plied up. The helmet had been irrecoverably damaged, though it was not apparent at first. Sabotage? No, though the damage was subtle, it was not THAT subtle.

"Joker tried desperately to save the first _Normandy_- I had to go drag him into an escape shuttle, though it was probably Joker who made sure anyone could have gotten off in the first place. It came down to either him or neither of us, and I ended up spaced, then crashed on the planet nearby. They think I may have been still alive when I hit the atmosphere." Her tone was oddly flat. Hannah Shepard knew her daughter, and the many shades of inflection she could impart. Her voice was a powerful tool- people who heard it tended to follow it without question. Hearing it sound so dead was almost more disturbing then the information she was so dispassionately imparting. "Cerberus got hold of my body, and I'm not sure what they did to it. As far as anyone can tell, I'm not a clone; but I haven't really taken a close look at too much of most of it." Her daughter shook her head violently, repressing the memory. "When I woke up, they told me that human colonies were disappearing. I tried to get the Alliance's help, but no one would listen to me as long as Cerberus was anywhere near me, and I could not tell them to go take a long walk if the colonies were disappearing without the council doing anything about it. So I used what they gave me to get the job done. I am still a Spectre, after all. Getting the job done is kind of a motto. Anyway- if you want to know more about it, try talking to Joker or trying to pry something out of Miranda; she was the head of the project."

That was all she had to say on the matter, despite several motherly attempts to pry.

* * *

><p>Retiring after dinner was interrupted when Hannah Shepard almost tripped over Officer Vakarian, who was not too pleased to have his stake out for Kelly Chambers interrupted.<p>

Hannah didn't know much about what was going on with her daughter or the _Normandy_, but she knew what sneaking around looked like, no matter what species, and did not care for it one bit. "What are you doing here?" she asked with an acid edge to her tone that usually sent the ensigns running for cover.

Instead of flinching, the turian's eyes narrowed, "I could ask you the same thing, human. It's clear that you are not part of the ship's crew."

Captain Shepard felt her eyes narrow in response to him, "I am a guest on this ship. YOU must be the 'other guest' on the ship. You sure as hell don't look like you've suffered a trauma, especially if you're sneaking around my daughter's ship."

"YOUR daughter?" He snorted derisively. "You mean the crazy human Spectre who has been stirring up panic with doomsday visions, faked her death, and joined a human supremacy group?"

Her jaw clenched; Hannah had heard a little about their guest from the crew, "The crazy human Spectre, who saved your worthless scaly hide after you got in over your head at the most notorious mining station in the known galaxy?" Her stance widened, and her shoulders squared. She certainly did not know where her daughter had gotten the compassion to save the obnoxious alien- all she wanted to do was deck him. The feeling was mutual if she was reading his mandibles right.

* * *

><p>Jack roused during the<em> Normandy's<em> "off" shift. The still darkness in the belly of the ship was comforting to her, as was the dead time when the ship was the quietest. Shepard had been trying to teach both her and Grunt some old strategy game- not that she cared of course. She'd also flagged certain information for Jack that she'd said "might interest her". Sometimes it was information on Cerberus, sometimes it was weird biotic theory, and sometimes it was simple history like "The Battle of Thermopylae". Most of it was interesting, which was why she hadn't thrown it back in Shepard's face. Jack had overheard some of Shepard's telling of 'great battles' to the krogan who lived two decks above her, but the story about the "300 Spartans" was a favorite with the young clone. Jack had to admit it was pretty entertaining herself- Shepard told it with a strategist's mind and a heavy dose of descriptive gore.

She was hungry though. Grumpy Gardner usually left some sort of snack out for her- the guy had a very frank and 'no bull-shit' attitude which Jack liked. His cooking wasn't exactly top par, but it was better than the rotten, burned, scraps she used to scrounge for. Jack had been more reclusive than usual- she'd heard Shepard's mom was on board, and even if the captain was a little goody too-shoes about her usual handlings of missions, the biotic did respect her enough to not make unnecessary trouble. Though now that she thought about it, half the fun of going down with the commander was wondering if that first class bitch that gave Jack's a run for the money would make an appearance.

The elevator doors opened to an amusing scene; 'Daddy' Vakarian and 'Mommy' Shepard were having a stand off. Briefly, Jack considered firing off her gun, just to fuck with them; she coughed loudly instead. The results were almost as good.

After recovering from the initial urge to kill whatever had startled them, both parents watched the strange tattooed woman prowl around the cabinets for a moment before grabbing some pre-made bowl from the galley. Hannah Shepard had to wonder about the skimpily-dressed human; she looked almost like a pixie. Her daughter was clearly running fast and loose with the regs; though she might have suspended them while trying to get the ship repaired. The entirety of the crew seemed to be working at all hours to get the ship back up to tip-top shape.

Jack turned to face the two of them with a spoon in her mouth as the elevator doors started to close. "You two should try hate-sex. Best fuck ever."

* * *

><p>Garrus found Shepard in the same position as he had the night they had fought, apparently meditating, looking somewhere past the fish tanks, with the Prothean orb in her lap. As she had that night, she waited for him to say something.<p>

"You're not sleeping," he said at last, his voice thick with disapproval.

She looked at him, the dark crescents under her eyes very apparent. It had taken a little study to discover it was a sign of sleep deprivation in humans, but she was a classic case if Garrus was any judge. While she said nothing, those eyes screamed 'I can't'.

He simply took the orb from her, mildly wondering about it's warmth under his talons, and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, I can think of a few things to do to make you tired enough to sleep." Garrus slowly pulled his commander to her feet, and then drew her against him. The priceless artifact was left forgotten on the bedside table.

Emotions, drive, those things were universal among all species (even if degree, cause and expression were different); but the vessel, the flesh? For what they had between them when their two peoples were so different? Their union was a minor miracle._ I am always here for you. For you, I will go leaping forward_, he told her with his actions. Volumes were expressed but remained unspoken in a coupling that few on either side would accept. The two marveled at each other's differences, and rejoiced in those things that were the same. Their joining was at times fast and frantic to slow but profound. What she had never told him, and he would never say he knew was she had first taken him to her bed for his sake, not hers. Now he would accept her for her own sake, and not for himself.

Damn if it wasn't what he looked forward to each night, though.

A few hours later EDI chimed softly. Garrus hissed at the AI, but the human woman curled in his arms did not stir. "What is it EDI?" he asked as quietly as possible.

"Captain Shepard and Officer Vakarian just got into an altercation. No violence has erupted yet, though it seems to be a high possibility now. It seemed likely the commander would like to know." EDI sounded remarkably contrite. It was possible she was using a tone out of the hearing range of humans; or maybe she was simply keeping the volume extremely low. It was amazing how quickly her personality was developing now that she was not shackled; though Garrus found himself hoping that the Spirits had somehow prevented his father from finding out about EDI.

"I will tell her in the morning EDI, but the commander has not been sleeping well." He really was going to have to tamp down on this growing protective streak if they were going to maintain any shred of the polite fiction that their little arrangement was a secret.

"I am well aware of that; the commander has been averaging approximately point nine hours of REM sleep a night." EDI replied.

"Is that . . . bad for a human?"

"Yes, that is very bad."

* * *

><p>Officer Vakarian had been waiting in the mess hall the next day, for either his son or Kelly Chambers to reappear when the quarian showed up.<p>

Quarians were the vagrants of Citadel space, though he'd heard some of the (then) new to Citadel space humans relate them to gypsies with what he now knew was nostalgia. Quarians were a shifty bunch, unable to repair the damage done after their horrific mistake in creating the Geth, and thereby leaving the rest of the galaxy to clean up their mess. He'd never seen her before, but that was not surprising due to the restrictions he was under. He had been expressly forbidden from the bridge and engine room, and the life support area was locked. Add in the issue of the crew's constant watchfulness, it was difficult to get anywhere if you did not want to be noticed. It looked like she had probably come up from the engine room, possibly for some sort of snack. The other techs and engineers were human after all, and like himself, she would be unable to eat what they did- though her presence did explain the dextro-protein snacks Kenneth Donnelly kept taking. Quarians were notably meek, and this one's body language seemed to support that. Many quarians would look for help, but not expect it, and would eventually fold under the pressure. They were also naïve, and once he roughed her up a little emotionally, she would be desperate to 'prove' herself to him. He didn't even need an integration room. He stood up and moved toward the table she was currently occupying.

"May I help you?" she inquired politely, looking up from the data pad she was studying, her voice thin with her quarian accent.

"Yes," he drew out the word. "I just wanted to know what a human captain wanted with a quarian on her ship."

She swayed a little in her chair, shifting back and forth, before replying, "Commander Shepard picks the best and brightest people to bring with her, and people she can trust. She doesn't care about what species you belong to." Again, like many quarians, she was moving her head a great deal to get the facial expression no one could see across.

He settled across from her, assuming a 'relaxed' position while fixing her with a stare. The combination seemed to work with most species, sans krogan, who only respected strength and a good beating. He waited for her to being to fidget. When she instead returned to her data pad, he cleared his throat. "What exactly does Shepard need the 'best and brightest' for? It's not for wiping out the geth- most of that has already been taken care of. What else could she be working on?"

If she had been a turian, no doubt she would be flexing her mandibles in the expression of skepticism. Somehow, the idea came across anyway. "Human colonies are disappearing whole cloth and you're asking what we are doing out here?" She said it very slowly, as though she was speaking to a very small and slow child.

He waved away the protest, before standing up to pace around her "Human colonies in the Terminus systems. That's nothing for the rest of the galaxy to get involved in, much less a Spectre. Everyone knows she was a little unstable before- ranting about 'Reapers' in public no less. She must be off chasing myths."

The quarian carefully set her data pad to one side, and he felt her eyes bore into him. "I would be very, VERY, careful about calling what this whole ship nearly died fighting a 'myth'." Her voice was deadly quiet, but she vibrated with a need to do violence on his person. She settled for slowly rising to her feet and jabbing one finger into the center of his chest. "Commander Shepard takes me down with her on missions on a rotating basis. She expects me to be able to hack and destroy anything she gives the word on, so if you have been under the mistaken impression that I was here as eye candy, I'm not. I also have seen the damage done by the Collectors with my own eyes, as has every other person on this ship. If I were you, I would think very carefully about what you say; everyone was picked because someone thinks they are the best and brightest, not the most patient." With that, she grabbed her nutrient paste and data pad before flouncing out of the room, giving him a parting look that would likely have withered him on the spot if he could see her expression clearly beneath her helmet.

* * *

><p>Hannah Shepard's attempt to find out what had been done to her daughter was not going any better. The <em>Normandy's<em> X.O., a strikingly beautiful human woman named Miranda, who seemed to only have one answer at any time for her.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but that's classified."

Captain Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose, "I know. Look, I just want to know what happened to my daughter." She'd asked the pilot, Jeff Moreau, about what exactly had happened before coming to Miranda. "Joker", as the whole crew affectionately called him, had shut down almost as badly has her daughter had. Like her, his voice had initially become flat before he launched off into about half a dozen jokes that were in extremely bad taste. His shoulders had done an uncomfortable dance; it did not exactly take a Doctor in Physiology to realize that he had 'survivor's guilt'. The details he DID give, however, forced the captain to listen detachedly. To think in terms of HER daughter personally made her feel slightly ill. Miranda was, in the meantime, continuing with the opaque stare she seemed to have perfected.

Hannah took a deep breath. "Ok, so what CAN you tell me?"

The _Normandy_'s X.O. slowly stood, setting her data pad to one side. "Ma'am, have you asked your daughter?"

"Yes, but she won't tell me anything. She just referred me to you and Joker."

Miranda braced one hip against her desk, and looked at her with the same distant expression, only now mixed with a breath of pity. "Then perhaps she does not want you to know."

* * *

><p>Commander Shepard glared at the data pad in front of her. It contained the hard-won files she had taken from the Shadow Broker's ship, and despite glaring at the small piece of technology for several long minutes, no appropriate answer had come to her. Two decisions were before her; three really. She could read all of them without permission, read some WITH permission, or not read them all and disseminate the files to the crew members affected so they knew what of themselves had been compromised.<p>

'Stars, I hate it when I have time to really think about a dilemma. I seem to do better with snap decisions.' She rolled her tongue over her front teeth, her hand absently reaching toward her throat for the dog-tags that were no longer there. She missed both them and her crucifix- they were as a part of her as the armor she wore or the N7 insignia; more, perhaps. Her dog tags dated back to first days in the Alliance Navy, and her crucifix probably a good ten years before that. She settled for wrapping a lock of hair around her forefinger and bringing it to her lips. The Commander took a steadying breath. 'It is better to ask forgiveness than permission. I need to figure out when and where our security has been compromised. Then I'll pass the data along if it looks like they need to know what the Shadow Broker knew. We look over our shoulders too much as it is.'

Shepard began with Mordin. Most of what she read, she'd guessed before, but it was still disquieting to read it in cold print. She did her best to skim the dossier, noting nothing from inside the _Normandy_ per se. That turned out to be the least distressing of the dossiers she would read, however, as she began to feel more and more like some sick Peeping Tom. It was one thing to spy on her enemies or people she had good reason not to trust, but she felt violated as she sifted though pages and pages of private information on the men and women she trusted to keep her alive, and who trusted her in turn. She tasted copper in her mouth as she stoically made notes about possible gaps in their security and tried desperately to ignore the disturbing porn downloads, and the world shaking medical and family news that peppered the whole affair.

It took three hours before she found herself staring at the file she was avoiding. 'Isolate, isolate,' some small process chanted silently to itself, reinforcing the barriers she had built long ago. She forced herself to imagine what was bothering her- to give it a form. Then she pictured four strong walls, a ceiling, and a floor to enclose it, and then shoved the whole mass to the back of her mind and began to pick apart Garrus' file; getting past the first line was the hardest. Scanning though the file a third time, she finally tossed the tablet on the bed.

'Why do I care so much?' she asked herself. Normally she would have spoken aloud, but going though those files had thoroughly fertilized the well-sprouted seeds of paranoia; not that she hadn't curtailed that habit before now. EDI meant well, but she was still an A.I., and had been under Cerberus' control when the _Normandy_ had first been signed over to her. 'I have a job to do: save all sentient life in the galaxy. Why do I worry about Grunt's growth as an adult krogan, or Jack's emotional demons as long as they don't get in the way? Why does reading about Miranda's infertility make me weep helplessly inside? What do I care if some creepy yagh who didn't know me or Garrus thought he'd never reach his full potential as long as he's with me? He was not all knowing; after all, he's dead and I'm not. Yet.' Shepard moved to stare out at the ever-moving star field beyond the _Normandy_. She traced the shape of her own reflection with one fingertip, marveling, as always, that the transparent window did not feel cool. 'All my people are responsible for their own decisions and everyone has baggage. What is it that is bothering me so badly?'

_It all fell apart without you, Commander._

As the memory surfaced, bidden by the question, she reached again for her missing dog tags. Joker had told her that very thing almost as soon as their greetings were over. Shepard felt like she was as cursed as Sisyphus- only what had she done to watch what they had all shed blood, tears, and ammunition be wholly torn down? What had Ashley died for, in the end?

Her reflection stared back accusingly. Shepard closed her eyes against it, focusing on breathing until the eyes she saw no longer reflected the turmoil she felt. Turning away from the "port glass", she snagged the N7 helmet her mother had left on the table and returned it to the desk she kept it on. Garrus had stacked her hand written notes next to her Prothean artifact, which her mother had thankfully not commented on. She toyed with the orb like it was a choice orange she had decided not to eat at that moment, but was saving for later. 'I'm thinking too much again. We may not live to see any of our demons try to swallow us. The whole galaxy is on borrowed time; the Council is just not willing to admit it. Maybe Samara can talk some sense into them- I hope so, for everyone's sake. We have to prepare like they are going to remain like ostriches in the sand. I hope Anderson won't follow their example, no matter what Udina says.'

She rolled the priceless "keepsake" from one hand to another idly; deep in thought, hoping the all knowing and seeing (or at least all seeing) Liara was not having fits of apoplexy if she happened to be spying on her former commander at that moment.

* * *

><p>Hannah Shepard had taken to purposely sabotaging the older turian's repeated attempts to spy on the <em>Normandy's<em> crew, mostly out of boredom, but partially due to the fact that he chafed at her personality. The turian spent a great deal of time sulking about, and trying to avoid her; a fact that gave her grim delight. Her daughter had been only three when the First Contact War had broken out, but both of her parents had been touched by three month conflict. She had always attempted to keep her jaded feelings about non-humans away from her daughter; they would have to work with them after all. Sometimes she wondered if she and her husband had succeeded too well, given her daughter's vocal opinions on join-species missions and maneuvers. Not that she had ever voted 'Terra Firma'.

Asari, quarians, and salarians were one thing, but she did not care for turians and that was unlikely to change. Unfortunate perhaps, but the bad blood was on both sides and that was also unlikely to change, no matter how many humans had died saving the _Destiny Ascension_. Even so, she had studied her feelings carefully and had decided that her feelings were not biased on some residual poisoning from that ill-fated venture but instead was from the fact he was sneaking around like an ensign command had ordered to spy on their commanding officers. The fact that it was her daughter's ship both compelled her to act and tied her hands- at least, officially.

And 'accidentally' spilling her coffee on him when she caught him prowling about could not be in any way considered official.

* * *

><p>Retired C-Sec officer Vakarian was as unhappy as Captain Shepard could have wished. 'I was a fool for assuming they would never notice me doing surveillance,' he thought to himself as he sipped at some beverage the quarian on board had seemed to like. He hated the idea that he'd blown his chance to dig at the deeper mission here. No one just went out to save the universe, especially not Cerberus. The "collector" mission was obviously just a decoy, but the crew was not even acting normal around him when he sat in the mess hall. Their body language stiffened as they noticed him, never mind talking about anything more interesting than couplings and some quiet, half-hearted talk about what they were going to do on their shore leave. He had overplayed his hand though, and would have to live with it.<p>

He had likely overplayed his hand with his son as well. Garrus was not even speaking to him now. He would just look back at his parent, say he was in the middle of calibrations, and then ignore him. It might be helpful for someone who just wanted to vent, but it was disturbing for his father. Garrus was still polite, but his responses had become icy after he'd gone after Shepard. He wondered what was going though his son's head, but Garrus was stonewalling him. He needed to corner the yeoman, so he could decide on his next move.

"What is your problem?" growled a familiar and much hated voice over his left shoulder. "You keep staring at the Main Battery doors, like you expect them to do a trick."

He bit off a growl of his own. The _Normandy's_ 'other' guest and he had been tripping over one another lately, and she seemed to delight in undermining every bit of reconnaissance he was doing. She'd made several snide comments as he had tried to pin down a surrogate interrogation room for the confrontation that he knew he didn't want an audience for. Hannah Shepard only seemed happy when sabotaging him; after all, misery loves company. "My son has shut me out," he responded instead of hitting the insufferable human, giving his probable explanation for his haunting of the crew deck. "I want to talk to him."

"Talk to you? Gee, I can't imagine why he would be avoiding you," she replied nastily as she flipped one grouping of the silvery stuff all humans seemed to have. The females could be quite vain about it. "What could be so important that you have to stalk your own son?"

Vakarian tried not to smirk, "I want to tell him that I don't like the fact that he's sleeping with your daughter."

The crew's quarters seemed to drop at least several degrees in temperature, and he could feel the weight of her disapproving glare on the back of his head. Slowly, as though her anger was not the least bit apparent to him, he turned to face her. The Alliance Captain was red in the face and looked ready to chew though the alloyed door that now separated her from her object of rage. He met her eyes impassively for a few seconds before she turned around in a huff and stalked back toward her assigned quarters. After all, misery loves company.

* * *

><p>Shepard was making her rounds, when she over-heard EDI and Joker discussing what they would like to do on 'their' shore leave. EDI was apparently going to see about downloading a number of the great classics from the known galaxy. Joker likely would not be leaving the ship. She waited few moments for a natural lull in their conversation to occur. Joker bit off a sarcastic remark about installing a rear-facing mirror before Shepard turned to address the ship's A.I.<p>

"EDI, any idea how many more bugs are left aboard the _Normandy_?"

EDI replied instantly, "There is no way to guarantee 100% removal of all unauthorized surveillance equipment; however we believe we have eliminated all of the Cerberus-placed bugs. Tali-Zorha and Legion have sifted though most of my programming and have realigned all suspicious sub-routines with my assistance."

Shepard let out a small sigh of relief. EDI would not say something just to make the commander of the ship feel better. "Well, at least we know the Illusive Man won't be making any un-requested use of the _Normandy_ or-"

"Damn it, I'm sick of hearing about the Illusive Man," grumbled Joker, "He has the most pretentious name created in the last half century; and that includes "_Sovereign_" or "_Harbinger_"." He pounded one fist into the arm of his chair. "That's it. We are going to call him "Tim" from now on."

"Tim?" asked Shepard incredulously, "Why Tim?"

"The Illusive Man. T. I. M. That spells . . ."

Shepard shook her head, and Joker (thankfully) trailed off. The confident steps they heard behind them could only belong to Miranda. 'How does she manage to project the "sexy swagger" though footsteps alone?' she wondered to herself.

"Commander?" her X.O. asked from a few feet behind them. Shepard had to admit that while the two of them rarely saw eye to eye, Miranda certainly knew how to deal with the crew members using the right amount of tact, body language, and personal space. One could almost forget the way she had "fired" Wilson.

"Yes, Miranda?" Shepard turned slightly include the former Cerberus agent in their conversation.

"I believe your mother wishes to speak with you." She glanced at Joker, "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important."

"Oh you weren't," Joker hastily assured her, "We were just discussing Tim."

Miranda glanced at her commanding officer. "Tim? Who or what is Tim?" She glanced at Joker's forcefully innocent face. "Or do I want to know?"

"Jeff is using an acronym to describe the Illusive Man." EDI supplied helpfully as Miranda slapped her face with the hand that was not holding her data-pad. "It is a joke."

* * *

><p>Relatively late in the evening, the massive krogan the crew affectionately called "Grunt", and the tattooed pixie named Jack arrived in tow behind Commander Shepard. The "regulars" of the <em>Normandy<em>'s crew smiled at their captain, and cleared the center-most table. Garrus' father watched with a certain amount of curiosity as the three of them set up a nine-by-nine holographic grid in the middle of the table. Shepard set a shiny, black pebble in front of Jack as well as a similar white one in front of the krogan. Jack flipped the chair backwards from the normal position the turian was used to seeing, and proceeded to straddle it. The krogan settled across from the tattooed human, sitting as carefully as he'd ever seen the species do so.

Shepard sat at the end of the table. "I'm giving an extra days' leave to the person who wins," she said without preamble. "Black goes first."

The krogan jerked his head at the commander. "Why does Jack get to go first?"

"Because black traditionally goes first, and you have more experience than she does." Shepard smirked sardonically, "Though, not by much."

The older turian was surprised when the krogan accepted the explanation with a minimal amount of grumbling, and instead focused his attention on the game. The two of them exchanged moves for a time before he began to pick up what exactly they were trying to do.

"It's a relatively simple game." His son's voice startled him out of his thoughts. Garrus gestured to the board. "Each player takes turns placing markers on the intersecting points on the board. Once placed, the markers can not be moved. The point is to capture and hold as much of the board as possible."

'Heh, a space grab. That sounds like humans all right,' he thought to himself. "Sounds easy," he growled instead.

"I said it was simple," Garrus replied, "I didn't say it was _easy_. Keep watching."

The tattooed human was hunched over, resting her chin and hands on the back of the chair, apparently considering her next move. Garrus' father looked over the board again. "There's a space third down, and on the left. Why doesn't she play there?"

"There's a rule that prohibits repetitive moves." Shepard addressed him without looking over, "Plus, she would lose a liberty if she plays there. As the markers chain together, they are considered one unit. In order for the unit to remain un-captured, it must have at least one space, or liberty, to play in." "

And I'd play if the three of you would SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Jack snapped back at them, also without turning to look. She thought about her options for a few seconds more before placing her marker.

The game was relatively short, taking just over seventeen minutes, with Jack trailing Grunt most of the time; though the biotic had made some very impressive gains herself, she was too eager overall. The older turian looked for his son as the krogan proceeded to rub his victory in the human's face. The small woman punched the massive alien, her fist lighting briefly with biotics. Garrus was already gone though, locking himself back in the main battery in his father's brief moment of distraction. Vakarian turned his attention back on the ship's commander, who had cut short the spat that could have easily escalated to blood shed with a look.

"Do you teach your whole crew games, Commander Shepard?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the hostility from his tone.

She raised one eyebrow at him, unmoved. "When it benefits my crew? Of course. Besides, I was under the impression that the Hierarchy did not care what someone does in their personal life as long as they excel in their professional life. Trust me; we excel in what we do." The captain of the _Normandy_ gave him no chance for a retort, but instead gathered up the pieces and left. She was one of the last, as the crew had cleared the room with surprising haste. As she disappeared up the elevators, however, Vakarian's eyes caught some movement at the far end of the ship, heading back toward the cargo area.

_Chambers_! The opportunity he had been waiting so patiently for had finally matured, and bore fruit. The ripe moment would not last, however, and he found himself hurrying as quietly as his age would allow. Though some miracle, he managed to get behind her, just as they were passing one set of bathrooms. Cat-like, he grabbed her left arm, pinched her opposite shoulder between his right elbow, and clamped his unused hand over her mouth- yanking her into the miraculously empty room in one fluid movement. As soon as the door shut, he pushed her deeper into the room, while he force-locked the door behind them. He'd scouted this room, along with several others, in his hours of unsuccessful surveillance, and was secretly pleased that she'd wandered this way. It was in his opinion, this was the second best area he'd scouted, and he wasn't sure if he could have lured her into the favorite choice. It wasn't perfect, but it was close- an unpleasant chill crept up his spine, which he ignored for the moment.

"Miss Chambers," he drawled, "Fanciful meeting you here, as you humans say."

The scant human woman had braced herself against the back wall, watching him with wary eyes. He watched her struggling to control the subtle but tell-tale shake, running from the crown of her head to her calves and her eyes, which kept flicking back between him and the door. "I'll scream," was the first thing she said.

He chuckled to himself. That wouldn't help her. The restrooms were relatively soundproof, and he'd set up a program on an infinite loop from his Omni-tool that would keep interlopers out with a maintenance message. "Go ahead."

Her green eyes widened for a scant moment before she pressed herself further back against the wall. "What do you want?" she asked, cowed.

"The truth," he replied nonchalantly, studying one talon with deceptive intent. She really was controlling herself well for someone who was there only to take messages and keep an eye on the crew. He supposed she had SOME combat training or she wouldn't have been assigned to the ship. He wasn't worried. Vakarian might be getting up there in age, but he was not exactly infirm either. "You can start with the _Normandy's_ REAL mission."

Kelly stared at him, somewhat shocked into ceasing to shake. "Didn't Garrus tell you? The Collectors have been abducting entire human colonies in the Terminus Systems. We went to find out why and stop them."

The former C-Sec officer stopped fiddling with his talon long enough to shoot her a look that had forced hardened murderers to confess to their crimes. 'At least everyone has their stories straight. Maybe the Spectre has kept their true mission from them?' He made eye contact with his suspect again. "Are you sure?" He snorted at Chamber's nod. "Because it seems to me," he drawled slowly, circling toward her right and causing her to back to her left along the wall, "that it would be very easy to have alternative goals on board this ship. Small, built for stealth, and answerable to no one." He ticked off each point for emphasis as she continued to back away warily. "And then, there's Cerberus."

"What about Cerberus?" Kelly asked; matching his advance with her own retreat, footstep for footstep.

"Cerberus," he repeated, "The former Alliance, anti-alien, special ops group that went rouge and conducted horrific experiments that have mostly remained buried. The one the Alliance has named a terrorist organization. Sound familiar at all?" his tone dropped down into the patronizing, stinging tones.

Kelly did not react as he expected, instead ignoring the inflammatory pitch save for a slight narrowing of her eyes. "Being 'pro' something does not automatically make someone 'anti' something else. Donating credits toward Kepral's Syndrome doesn't mean that person hates those who suffer from cancer." The yeoman shifted her shoulders slightly, the movement drawing his attention for a moment. As she backed away, she was careful not to cross her legs. "Unless you are telling me that a nationalist turian is the same as a racist turian."

Vakarian growled, "This isn't about turians."

The_ Normandy's_ councilor nodded, "No, this is not about turians," she affirmed. "This isn't even about Council Space. This is about the whole galaxy. Even if you think your son has lost his sense to a more powerful personality," the old cop flinched slightly; Kelly gave no sign that she noticed and continued, "You surely don't think an asari justicar or a former member of the STG would also be caught?" Kelly's right hand was gently skimming the surface of the bathroom wall, allowing her to not trip over she shower but instead to circle past it, her breathing remained steady and her eyes continued to flit between him and the door. Vakarian watched her feet for a moment; something about the way that she was moving was starting to set off old instincts that were rusty from disuse.

"There have been charismatic leaders who have fooled many individuals before; even ones who should have been wise enough to know better. Even asari matriarchs are not omniscient," he countered as he changed direction to herd his suspect back from the door. The social group/prey-drives in turians were not so far removed as they were in asari, though they did their best as a species to hide it. Vakarian, however, liked to use it to his advantage in species that some part in their most primitive brain remembered being preyed upon. 'Gently now,' he thought to himself, 'I have been burned already with the rest of the crew.'

Kelly shifted back, moving in the direction he wanted her to go. "Charisma will not cover everything. Humanity has a saying, 'you can fool some people all the time, and everyone some of the time, but never everyone all of the time'; think about all of the odd things that have been happening in the past few years." She paced a little more to her left, swallowing for a moment before continuing, "How did Saren get close enough to the geth to convince them to help him in the first place? They have a 'shoot now and ask questions later' policy that was well established before the First Contact War. Where did _Sovereign_ come from in the first place? A fully functioning Prothean ship is out of the question, and truthfully it's far beyond what we've seen the geth use; before or since. How did Saren fool Benzeia, a powerful and charismatic individual herself? You are a former Citadel Security officer; one of your jobs was to look beyond all the individuals who were pulling on the truth, and see how it limpidly laid on its own." Her large eyes, clear like an emerald, held his for just a moment clouded with a terror that made him threaten to swallow his tongue in unwilling empathy, "What do your instincts say when I tell you that I was here on the _Normandy_ when the Collectors invaded this ship and took us? How we were trapped in pods that barely fit us but still allowed us to look out and see our fate. How the place stank of waste, fear, and death?" The old turian realized that she was facing the door, which was behind him now. She paused, for effect. "Would your intuition call me a liar?"

Vakarian studied her face, looking for the flaw that would call her just that. Facts that he had not wanted to put together began to conjoin, haphazard at first, then falling swiftly together as logic blurred the jagged edges of each fact into an overall and terrible picture of _knowing_. The trauma done to the ship, the over-enthusiasm of the crew, Garrus' tendency toward pithy responses, and the multitude of species on board; the feeling settled deep in his gizzard and lodged there, as unpalatable as the slop krogan called food.

Officer Vakarian suddenly felt the weight of his years and the toll his carrier had taken on his body. His shoulders slumped as he growled a response to the yeoman, a word-less sigh of defeat as his omni-tool lit briefly to unlock the door. The small human woman walked toward the exit, perhaps taking mercy on him and not pushing at the open sore. His thoughts were interrupted when Kelly Chambers paused beside him, and something slightly cool was suddenly pressed into one limp hand. His talons curled around it instinctively, before he realized what it was.

"One other thing to consider," Kelly said to him in a conversational tone as the weight of the object dangling loosely from his talons settled, "I'm sure turians have a similar saying, but it is always important to remember that 'sometimes the toes you step on are connected to the boot that kicks your ass'." A pregnant pause followed. "Just so you know."

As the ship's councilor sashayed by him he wondered when exactly she had lifted the purloined scalpel away from him, and why he hadn't noticed. His breath hitched for just a moment as he realized that despite being shot twice in his heyday, having had an undercover red sand buy go horribly south once in his green recruit days, and retied with honors after years of dangerous and dedicated service, he had nearly met his end in the women's restroom, on a rouge human ship, out in the edges of Council Space, by a human female that likely weighed less than the average salarian.

"Officer Vakarian," the disembodied voice of the ship's V.I. interrupted his thoughts, echoing loudly in the enclosed room off the hard surfaces. "The men's restroom is on the port side of the ship."


	4. Chapter 4: Rendezvous

Author's Note: Chapter Three was all drama-lama, and this chapter has turned into a drama sandwich. My apologies that this has taken so long to write; summertime is the busy season at work for me, and this chapter was one of the hardest things I had ever written. To attempt to make up for the extremely long break this chapter is longer than the other three have been thus far.

When writing this story, the first name of Commander Shepard has been deliberately omitted. If the interspecies romance contained herein offends you- then go no further gentle reader, there are many other fantastic Mass Effect fan-fictions out there. The Shepard household and the Vakarian clan are major extrapolations on what little we know about them, and as such a great deal of their personalities is up to interpretation. So please feel free to leave your thoughts.

_ Disclaimer: No characters in the following fan-fiction belong to the authoress, but instead belong to Bioware or their prospective owners. The authoress takes no responsibility to any relation to anything, living or dead, as it is purely coincidental. _

**Waypoint:**

Chapter Four: Rendezvous

"_Every night of my life/ I watch angels fall from the sky  
>Every time that the sun still sets I pray they don't take mine."_

_ -Shinedown, "Diamond Eyes (Boom-Lay-Boom)"_

"You better get out of here."

Garrus paused in gathering up their discarded plates from their meal together, the cold light from the tanks highlighting the depth of the damage to his face. "Why?" He seemed puzzled, though the amusement lacing his tone was also clear.

Shepard rubbed one side of her face, smearing the foundation she'd applied earlier. "Mom insisted on having a talk with me tonight. I've put her off until now, but it wouldn't be smart to delay her much longer."

Her turian comrade gave her a searching look before disappearing briefly up the steps and into the bathroom they shared. Shepard raked her nails across her scalp in frustration; Kelly had pulled her aside and told her she would need to speak with her at Shepard's earliest convenience, and the commander of the _Normandy_'s gut was screaming that the subject would not be pleasant. The soft clicking of Garrus' boots across the deck recaptured her attention after a moment. Her lover made eye contact with her before tossing something her way; which she caught before taking a good look.

"Your scars are visible again," he said by way of explanation for the flying compact, "you've rubbed the stuff clean off." Garrus watched her covertly as he finished the small chore of gathering the dishes. The smile she gave him was a mix of thanks and chagrin. He did not comment on it however; the slow unmasking they were doing of each other left each new facet exposed, tender, and prone to injury. The dance was both overt and subtle, plus he was not sure he understood all the rules; much like the human woman he was performing it with. "Call me when the coast is clear," he said instead of prodding at the new aspect of their not-relationship.

* * *

><p>Hannah Shepard chimed the alert on the Captain's cabin, and waited with what little patience she had left. She heard the door start to open, and drew in a presumptive breath to begin the discussion that was likely to turn nasty. She never got to start, however, when standing in front of her was a six and a half foot turian. She initially thought it was the damn cop she'd been crossing words with for nearly the past week, but was disabused of the notion when she saw the scars that crawled across the right side of his face. This, then, was Garrus Vakarian, the turian her daughter had written such high praise about while they had been tracking down that rouge Spectre; as well as the son of the nasty turian who rubbed her raw.<p>

The Captain of the _Orizaba_ looked him over carefully, realizing she had never really seen him before, trying to discern what kind of man- well, turian, he was. Garrus was fairly tall, but average height for a turian, and she could see the damage was not isolated to his face, but extended past his neck, and presumably on to his torso. His eyes were small and sunken in, like all turians, but she had to admit they were an attractive color. The few steps he had taken had told her a lot about him; all turians spent some time in the military or at least some public service, and his swagger matched up with the information her daughter had casually dropped years ago after the Battle for the Citadel- he had been a Spectre candidate. His presence was heavy, his posture a curious mix of military-police and dangerous, hardened, mercenary; Garrus likely intimidated a lot of people without trying. Two sets of dishes were held carefully against his body with one hand, leaving his other hand free for defense; despite being on the _Normandy_ and presumably safe, he was armed. She noted he was giving her the same careful scrutiny, but his thoughts were opaque to her.

"Captain Shepard," he simultaneously greeted and dismissed her, moving to the elevator presumably to return the dirty plates to the Mess Sergeant.

'He's not going to shoot me in the back,' she convinced herself, and forced her feet to step beyond where he was and enter her daughter's domain. "Honey it's me," she said out loud as the doors shut behind her.

"I know." The reply was quiet and almost tired sounding, "I'm over by the couch."

The room was lit at about forty percent, the fish were doing their mindless laps in their enclosures, and the room was as clean and neat as a Drill Instructor could have wanted. As Hannah descended the short steps into the sunken bedroom section of the loft, she absently wondered why the turian had been there; if that damn washed up cop had been yanking her chain she was going to have words with him.

Her daughter was dressed casually in a jumpsuit that looked appropriate for a colonist working on a farm and was stained with the usual melody of dark smears an engineer would collect when working on the damaged section of an engine. Hannah gave an unconscious half-smile. Both her and her husband had worked hard to make sure their daughter was a hands-on solider, and Hannah relished in the idea they had succeeded. Her sense of satisfaction faded at the evidence of how over-worked her daughter was, the quiet slump in her lean frame, her tone of voice all told her that the commander of the _Normandy_ had likely not slept well in months. The younger Shepard held a make-up compact in her hands, but her eyes were on her mother.

"You wanted to see me?" The Captain took a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts. "I was just told something today and I wanted to find out if was true." Commander Shepard's face gave away none of her thoughts as she waited for her mother to continue, instead thoughtlessly turning the convex object over repeatedly in her hands. Hannah struggled for a moment as she tried to say the unthinkable, "They said that you and that turian were," she coughed and struggled over the next words, "overly familiar with each other."

Her daughter stopped fiddling with the compact, "And?"

"And?" Hannah's eyes darted back and forth between her daughter's face and her hands, her eyes not easily visible in the low light. She was shocked that her daughter would take the implications so lightly. There were still many who would call any such paring treason. "Is it true?"

Her offspring seemed to weigh her words carefully, as her mother was doing. "Depends on what you mean by 'overly familiar' I suppose," she said at last. "Garrus was the C-Sec Officer in charge of the investigation of Saren, but he was stonewalled at every turn because everything a Spectre touches becomes 'need-to-know'. He initially joined up with me on the first _Normandy_ because he knew the Spectre was guilty."

Hannah glowered, a potent weapon when she chose to use it, but her daughter seemed unmoved. Looking for a new object to focus on in her discomfort, Hannah let the moment grow heavy as she watched the fish make another lap. The answer had not precisely answered the question she had asked, and was the captain not impressed by any semantics that would say otherwise. "Are you sleeping with him?"

"Yes."

The look of dumbfounded shock on her own face would have been memorable if Hannah Shepard could have seen herself. The rage that had been tied down under layers and layers of confining manners and regulations thrashed underneath it all, fraying her sense of propriety. Her jaw worked back and forth as she attempted for form words to express the rolling, seething mass of black rage that was threatening to turn venomous. She fell back into her default logic to protect both her and her own, "Fraternization is against the regulations." The reason sounded impotent even to her own ears, and it was the least of her concerns, but it was the only reason she could think of that her daughter was likely to respond to. Her tone was strained, the pitch whitening with stress.

She saw her daughter cock her head to one side, perhaps out of amusement, "Does this look like an Alliance Ship?"

"The regs," her mother bit out, "are there for a reason." Hannah looked like she had swallowed something extremely unpleasant and had to explain the obvious to a very small and slow child, "The officers of a ship fraternizing with their subordinates' will cause trouble for everyone involved."

Commander Shepard balanced her chin on her fist, "On a normal mission with only humans involved, you would have been correct, and you would have no arguments from me. But this ship has several different species as its crew; my squad reports directly to me and none of them have complained of favoritism. Plus everyone on board knew we were on a suicide mission. That kind of assignment tends to change what people consider to be important."

Hannah Shepard felt like she had been punched in the gut for a moment; she'd somehow known that when her daughter had said 'high risk's she had been understating facts; it did not make hearing it in the open air any easier to take. "Suicide mission or not," she glared at her offspring. "And even in the unlikely event that you are managing no favoritism, conscious or otherwise, dextro-amino acids can cause some very nasty allergic reactions in humans. The whole relationship is dangerous," her mother countered, drawing on her years of experience in telling her daughter why something was a foolish risk, "He can't even eat the same food you can, and you're . . . you're-" she struggled to find an appropriate euphemism for what she wanted to say.

The younger Shepard gave her mother a long-suffering sigh, "Dr. Chakwas has given us both the appropriate medications. He's actually more allergic than I am- I don't get a reaction, and he gets a mild rash if left untreated. Don't patronize me."

"Your father would have never tolerated this," Hannah threw back, her tone somehow more accusing than her words.

"Dad," the younger woman countered, "would have given Garrus a chance. Would he have done a background check behind my back? Probably, and I'd probably have been pissed at him for it. Would he have tried to intimidate him? Very likely, and I would have had to warn Garrus about that particularity with human fathers and their daughters. Would the fact that Garrus isn't human have bothered him? Almost assuredly, but he would have gotten over it in time. You however? Mom, I love you; but you hate turians." She held up one hand to stop the interruption half-born in her mother's throat, "I know why. Stars, I know why." Her daughter stood, her face catching the light at last, but her expression was shuttered. "Garrus was a child then, and so was I. His father was working on the Citadel, far away from Earth and Shanxi. And even if that was not the case, when have any of us in this family ever thought the sins of the father passed to the son?"

Hannah Shepard pursed her lips together, her expression hardening. "We are not only talking about a single family here." She shook her head and began to pace, "If only it was so simple. When the turians invaded, they opened fire on US rather than using diplomatic measures; indeed, the turians killed innocent civilians to get to the soldiers without mercy. For them, there is no such thing as those uninvolved in a war- only the totality of it and everyone, no matter what age or circumstance was equally guilty in their eyes. They will not give our posterity the same pass you propose extending to them. That's what their culture values, it is the truth they believe in, and _that_," she paused in her movement as she spat the word, "is the environment they all grow up in. That hasn't changed from nearly fifteen hundred years of experience with races that are completely different than their own. Vakarian senior certainly doesn't think much of humans in general, and what his people do when they think their in a war," She shuttered, "It doesn't bear thinking about. Even if they made 'reparations' ", here she put as much scorn as she could into the word, "blood money doesn't bring the people back."

"Mother," her daughter's eyes were no longer hooded, but instead earnest, "aren't we supposed to believe 'if someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also'? We're not fighting for survival against the turians now, and we don't have the resources to start a revenge war." The younger woman's face and posture was more animated now than the figure in repose mask she had worn.

'Which is her real state of mind?' Hannah wondered, but rushed headlong anyway, "Don't quote bible verses to me that I taught YOU as a child." The older human glared, her body language becoming increasingly aggressive.

"Then have faith in and remember what you taught." Her daughter sighed. "Understand mother, I am not just your daughter any longer. A lot of people are counting on this ship." The younger human's eyes flickered back between each of her mother's, searching for something for a long moment before giving up. "And now, I am going to have to ask you to leave; I have some tactical read-outs I have to map."

Captain Shepard hated being out maneuvered, and instead of backing from her opinion, instead she mumbled something vague, acquiescing to the door her daughter was indicating. The boiling emotions and raw rage were not so easily tamped down, however, and as the elevator door shut, Hannah knew she would be looking for blood- and there would be no stopping until satisfaction was hers.

* * *

><p>Officer Vakarian was sitting in the middle of the mess hall, trying to absorb all the possible implications from his little 'chat' with the <em>Normandy's<em> yeoman. He had given up the little scalpel, leaving it on the desk in sick bay. For her part, Dr. Chakwas had not commented when he had entered her domain and set the implement before her, and had made no motion to stop him from leaving without a word of explanation. He turned his attention back to the hot drink he had been sipping. Garrus had come down a few minutes prior, and had completely ignored his presence before returning to the Main Battery. Things were relatively quiet for a while after that, with only Sergeant Gardner bustling about in the kitchen, whistling to himself. 'I wonder if all humans do that,' he thought to himself, 'It's like they can't stand silence.'

He heard the elevator doors open, and he glanced up out of habit. Though he could not see the doors, the walking pattern suggested female, human, and very, very agitated. He wondered if the _Normandy's_ Commander was about to have it out with him, but was only slightly surprised when he saw her mother, Hannah Shepard round the corner. Their eyes met, and he could not help but feel a small sense of satisfaction that he was not the only one being thwarted on the ship as she strode toward him.

She stopped just out of his reach. Her glare made some of the radiation storms on Palaven seem like gentle breezes in comparison; nor did she mince words with him, "Tell your son to stay away from my daughter." Her tone was white hot with a kind of anger Vakarian had not heard in a long time.

He pushed the cup away from him before slowly pulling himself to his feet. "Wouldn't it be easier to tell your daughter to stay away from my son?" he asked with a calm tone designed to infuriate.

He watched her tongue bubble her lower lip out as she scraped her dull teeth with it. "I have," she said around the anger that threatened to choke her, "She all but said she was going to ignore me."

Vakarian snorted, "That's humans for you; too stubborn to stay away from things that should not be touched, be they turians, or Mass Relays. Maybe your species should have stayed in the trees." He now towered over her in a way that should have been intimidating, but that only seemed to mean she needed to glare _up_ at him.

"Just tell your _spawn_ to keep it in his pants," she hissed, "Difficult I know, for a species of nymphomaniac, warmongering, bird-men; but I'm sure you can manage it if you can get over being such a terrible father your own issue wants nothing to do with you."

Vakarian was not sure what part of her little speech incensed him most as he choked on insinuations heaped one on top of another. He felt a dull rage building in his jaw and putting pressure behind his eyes. "Did it ever occur to you," he growled in retaliation, "that she might have ordered him to share her bed? That wouldn't surprise me; she really should get a vibrator if the human men aren't enough for her."

Hannah felt her face flush, not with embarrassment, but with umbrage. "Big talk coming from a species of debauching war criminals," she bit out, shaking with her furor. He noted on some level her agitation was rising as she clenched her jaw together with enough force to make the bones stand out.

"Big retort coming from a species of sexually-repressed racists," he snarled back, crowding her space like he would have in the interrogations of his youth. His taloned hands worked unconsciously, clenching and unclenching; mimicking her jaw. He watched her breathing becoming shallow, and he could smell the adrenaline that was poring off of the human. The fear-anger smell was reacting with a primal section of his brain, he knew deep inside; he dismissed whatever concern he might have had- he was still in control, unlike the enraged child-species in front of him.

"Ignorance and jealousy," she retaliated, heaping contempt in her tone as her shoulders squared, and the volume of her voice dropped until it was just above a whisper, "As expected from a xenophobic, barefaced liar." She could hear the blood rushing in her ears.

Vakarian didn't hear beyond 'barefaced'. His fist clenched so tightly, he heard a bone pop before he took the first swing at her.

The older Shepard flowed away from his punch, almost like she had been expecting it, and followed with a vicious blow the center of his abdomen with a surprising amount of force behind it. One knuckle caught painfully on the ridge on his chest plate, but if it hurt her she did not show it, and instead went to kick out his knee. Vakarian stepped out of the range of her foot, and shot out a jab that she could not entirely avoid, making solid contact with her shoulder. She swung the hand she had left out for balance, striking the more sensitive area between the armored cowl and his neck. The older turian grunted in pain, curling slightly inward as Captain Shepard pressed her advantage. A feint, the human realized to late, as he struck her less armored face plate with his own. Bright red blood flowing down her face from the head wound, she swung out wildly, a left hook he dodged before shifting his weight backward- unerringly to where her right foot had been waiting. She tripped him as he moved backward; as he went down however, the turian pulled her with him, and the punching scrap became a grappling match.

Mess Sergeant Gardner had moved as soon as the shouting match had started, but now he was running to Engineering to get help from Ken Donnelly, hoping the big Scot would help him separate the fighting parents. Dr. Chakwas had already come out of sick bay to see the commotion, as had the third of the crew that was off duty. Grunt, the first crewmember he had grabbed, had not been any help, stating the fight was too fun to watch to break up.

The deck plates of the _Normandy_ were cold as the two of them hit the ground, rolling until they hit a barrier, each struggling to gain the upper hand, foot, or body. Neither had time to think about the feet that had come to circle them, not when Vakarian managed to bite Hannah's arm painfully, or when she kicked his leg spurs in the most agonizing way. The retired C-Sec officer struggled to remove his gloves, so he had some form of natural weapon again the human, who was far faster than he was, but she kept kicking him and trying to sprawl on top of his carapace to pin him. He was tougher than she was though, by a good bit. As long as he could keep her from killing him, the turian could probably outlast her. 'Probably,' he thought to himself as she landed another blow on his chin.

Approximately five minutes into the fight, Commander Shepard stormed onto the crew deck, her hair wet from an interrupted shower and her dirty-work overalls hastily clipped, with only a tank top on for a shirt. Even only mostly dressed, and with dripping hair that was slowly making a small pool of water around her, their commander was frightening. The crew looked at her nervously, wondering if she was going to ream them for cheering on the fight, but she only had eyes for the grappling adults in the center of the crowd, pausing only to have Kelly fetch Garrus from the main battery. Kelly returned with Garrus in tow, and rushed to stand beside Shepard. Garrus, like their leader, had his eyes glued to the fight, but easily within Shepard's line of sight.

Humans had better peripheral vision and Hannah was determined to use that against him, as training that had been beaten into her head in the wake of the First Contact War came roaring to the front of her mind. 'If he gets one of those gloves off, I'm dead.' He was definitely stronger, but the captain was definitely more vicious. They were both sporting showy injuries to places where the skin was broken easily, though with nothing life threatening yet. Fine sprays of red and blue blood flew everywhere, like some insane artist who fancied himself 'post-post-modern' had decided to use the _Normandy's_ crew deck as a canvas. Vakarian went to bite her throat when she grabbed his fringe and forced his head down between their bodies, his legs kicking wildly to gain purchase on the unforgiving floor. She tried to strike at the back of his exposed neck, but the angle was wrong for it, and she nearly lost her grip. Both of them were tiring, and growing more desperate. Vakarian kept trying to pin one hand beneath her to unsheathe his talons by force; fortunately for the Captain Shepard, to prevent accidents, the gloves were not meant to come off easily. They rolled again, Shepard trying again to pin both arms so she could pummel him unimpeded.

Jack and Grunt were taking an almost savage delight in the viciousness displayed by the two parents, and scattered though out the crowd was the occasional flash of Omni-Tools updating bets. Mordin Solus and Dr. Chakwas were speaking softly to each other in the non-standard dialect that all doctors and scientist speak. They were probably mentally logging injuries. Miranda was waiting for Shepard's word to act impatiently, and watching the crew, though her thoughts were hidden. Jacob stared on with the uncomfortable look of someone who just _knew_ they had stepped in something unspeakable with their new dress shoes before an inspection. Whether the distaste stemmed from a general disapproval or a personal level of shame that an Alliance member- or human in general was acting this way was anyone's guess. Jacob wasn't the sharing type. The cheers from the on looking crew were slightly subdued, as the crew of the _Normandy_ tried to place the level of their captain's ire, and who was going to get the brunt of it. Tali and the rest of the engineering crew had been some of the last of the crew to make it to the fight before no one could see what was going on over tall heads and shoulders. The quarian flinched visibly as each blow connected, but made no other comment.

A scaled fist snaked out and stuck Hannah in the solar plexus, which had been left vulnerable by their floor match. Her eyes stung from the impact, and she struggled to draw breath as the assaulted bunch of nerves misfired from their abuse. The woman reeled for a moment, fending off several more strikes as the turian pressed his advantage, exulting in the hot burn of his rage and being able to _do_ something about it, but fearing if he took the time to get to his feet, where his length would be more beneficial, she would have recovered enough to knock him over again. He growled has he struck home again, reveling in the sound of his knuckles striking her flesh, his predatory instincts on high alert as he fixated on his opponent.

The human's disorientation was short lived due to her training however, lasting less time than Vakarian thought it would. She caught him at his moment of most perilous balance. It would not take much strength to roll him- only a small push and proper leverage, which she gained by grabbing the leading edge of his cowl with one hand and the arm on that side with the other. Vakarian had forgotten for a moment that her alien knees bent the wrong way, and had never known how flexible she was; a swift jerk of her hips coordinated with a modified hooking motion of her legs and feet had him flat on his back, where after pining one hand beneath her leg and his other beneath his own body, the furious human began to simply attempt to pummel his face in.

His claws scrambled to plant him firmly as blow after blow hit soft spots, the place where his mandibles joined to his face, beneath the mandibles themselves on his lower jaw, the delicate tissue around his eyes, and he only made the mistake of howling once. The malicious half-blocked strike to his throat kept his chin tight to his collarbone. Finally, one foot planted firmly on the smooth floor. With a twisting motion that would likely have him limping for the next standard week, if he managed to survive, he caught her around most of her scrawny pink neck and part of her shoulder and threw her violently off and away from him. The hand that had been caught beneath him wrenched painfully, but he felt the catch on his glove finally give beneath the abuse. The turian pushed himself to his feet with a lithe jerk, as he finally threw away the useless scrap of fabric; unsheathing claws that could pierce a human's carotid artery with little effort. Officer Vakarian's and Captain Hannah Shepard's eyes met for a moment. The triumph in his eyes was evident, and was the fear in hers'- even if the fear was being over ridden by pure rage. The human turned and leapt without hesitating, and after sending the dinner Mess Seargent Gardner had been prepping on the counter onto their audience as they desperately tried to clear a pass for her, her fingers curled around the object she had dove for. Vakarian's triumph turned to horror as Hannah turned with near mercurial form, the kitchen boning knife gripped in one fist. It had left her hand before he had truly grasped the danger, rushing end over end toward him.

"ENOUGH!"

The azure flash of biotics shocked the room into silence, no one knowing what to watch: the lazy circles of the kitchen knife caught in an expertly timed singularity, or the biotic Commander who stalked toward it, her face an impressive mask of harsh fury. Unlike the shocked parents however, hers' was perfectly controlled and channeled. She gestured briefly with one hand, dismissing the biotic display. The sharp metallic note of the purloined weapon rang eerily though the silent crew deck. Commander Shepard deliberately placed her heavy boot over the blade, looking neither left nor right, but at some vague spot five feet on the floor in front of her. The young Spectre made a small note to herself that the knife had been aimed to disable, not to kill- but it did nothing to cool her ire.

"You both are acting like a pair of crazed _varren_, fighting over a _bitch_ in HEAT!" Commander Shepard barked out, her voice razing in volume until just shy of a full drill instructor yell, biting off the last word. She paused and then continued on in a conversational tone, "And that, my guests, is something I can not afford to put up with. Not with sensitive meetings being set up with me back to back. Clearly neither of you can manage to act like anything but a pair of scrapping children without constant supervision, so," she took a deep breath without looking up, "Grunt! Legion!"

Numbly, Hannah Shepard watched the child-adult krogan grab Garrus' father and proceed to man handle the turian before she felt cold hands grab her shoulders, and pulled her to her feet slightly more gently than the krogan had. Grunt shoved the turian prone in front of Commander Shepard as he grunted her name in unsuppressed approval. Shepard's mother turned to look at her captor, and got a brief look at a geth drone before it shoved her before her daughter. "Shepard-Commander," was all it said, as both a greeting and an acknowledgement. Hannah struggled to accept the impossibility of the geth's presence, made even more difficult with the heady mix of the over adrenaline which forced her to fight to hide her trembling, shock at the tall and intimidating stranger her daughter had become, and guilt, which she also attempted to mask. She chose to shove the geth issue to the back of her mind. Both parents forced themselves to meet the leader of the _Normandy's_ eyes, flinching at the emotions they saw there.

"You both are to be confined to sick-bay until I say otherwise. I frankly don't care who threw the first punch, nor do I care to know what possessed two of the most widely respected adults in Alliance and Hierarchy space to go off the deep end and begin to try to beat each other senseless." Her eyes, sharp and watchful as the crew of the _Normandy_ had always seen them, swept over the subdued spectators and the parents who now each looked at the deck beneath them with feigned fascination. "The rest of you; clean this up." Garrus followed her closely has she turned heel, as did her X.O., Miranda and Yeoman Chambers.

Jacob watched the trio retreat into the conference room, frowning thoughtfully. A little sound to his left brought his attention to Tali, her Omni-Tool a bright orange. "I believe the human phrase is 'Pony it up, chump'."

* * *

><p>It was several hours before all the injuries were tallied, and by then Commander Shepard had hashed out a rotating schedule of guards to keep an eye on the volatile parents. The geth, Legion was it's name, had be simultaneously the most polite and the most annoying to deal with. Generally, the synthetic sat so completely still as to not have been there at all, but sometimes it would ask questions in a stilted and surprisingly formal way. The others who kept an eye on them would shift side to side and glower at them disapprovingly, and neither parent wanted to remember why they were there.<p>

For a long while, there was only silence between them- Vakarian spent his time studying their captors and Hannah Shepard sulked while going over some subject on her data pad. The medical bay was COLD and Vakarian very much disliked that tendency in human doctors to keep the temperature down so far- it made him grumpy. Still, maybe the human would stop brooding when the silence edged on for a while. The human doctor did not seem overly put out that her space had been turned into an impromptu brig; at least she did not let on any irritation to the prisoner-guests. Vakarian watched their guards as a way to keep his mind busy, and answered the synthetic as needed, but the quiet from his human counterpart made the plates on his back itch.

In the end, it took two days before she said a word to him.

It was a fragile thing, the conversation they had; it started by talking about the battles she'd had with the geth (or 'heretics' Legion had called them), and tactics in particular. They quickly dissolved into an argument that stayed gentile mostly because both of them were still too sore and tired to fight. Before long, it was lights out and they both rolled over in their bunks, annoyed at one another- but no worse than that. They argued again the next morning over breakfast, breaking briefly at lunch, and finally driving Dr. Chakwas out of the room a short time before dinner. From there, the arguments branched out into the Council space politics, the inter-racial politics, the Krogan rebellions, and whatever else came to mind. It was _almost_ improper, he thought to himself, once he realized how he enjoyed flexing his mind in both logical arguments and obscure insulting idioms; never mind the sharp and attentive looks she would fix him with seemed to show a similar hunger. Though, by unspoken agreement, neither brought up what had started the fight in the first place, but it was inevitable they would eventually touch upon her racism- and his, if he had been truly honest with himself (which he had not been before that point).

It was sometime in the middle of the third day of arguing, and after the _Normandy_ had docked at Illium, when he made the mistake of mentioning Shanxi.

"There is no excuse for what your people did," Hannah hissed at him, her overly large eyes bright with a fire that would have been inflammatory in multiple ways in a turian. The human irritability pushed back a section of silvery-white hair that had fallen in front of her face again. She would have been pacing, but neither of them wanted to draw the attention of the Cerberus guard who might have locked them both down if he thought they were going to come to blows again.

"You humans had NO idea what you were meddling with; you would not let a small child step in front of a moving vehicle, and you would not apologize for bruising them or making them cry when you pulled them out of the way," the old turian countered, all his instincts firing at once. There was something here she left unsaid- something personal, his cop-gut told him, but his offence at her blanket statements would not let him burry the subject for the sake of peace.

"Perhaps," she snapped back, "but I wouldn't beat the child to death afterwards either." She eyes flicked back between him and the door, causing a prickle of uneasiness down the old cop's spine; Kelly Chambers had done something similar and he was not going to make the mistake of underestimating a human female again. "And that's exactly what you turians did. What makes it worse," her shoulders shook with barely contained emotion, "is we had to mop the floor with you before the rest of the 'civilized' galaxy jumped in to stop it. That should have told all of humanity," she swung out one had to include the whole of her species, "what the Council's actual priorities. Apparently the asari and salarians would have been fine with a whole-sale massacre if we hadn't enough teeth to fight the turians off."

Vakarian bared his own fangs at her, "We are not just talking about the people living on one lone human settlement. Mass Relays are dangerous, especially unchartered ones. The number of lives lost could have been catastrophic!"

"The number of lives lost WAS catastrophic! It was just that most of the lives lost were human, and who cares about those except the humans? The Council tells us to go and expand into the dangerous parts of the galaxy, but won't protect the areas we settle. We take all the risks," her face wrinkled and she made motions with her hands that presumably mimicked mandibles. "'Let's settle the area with farmers, their pregnant wives, and small children. If the batarians attack, who cares? It's only humans.'"

"The Council has REPEATEDLY decided in favor of humanity!" He slammed one fist down loudly, causing both of them to pause and glance toward the door. When no one came running in, calling for a sedative at gunpoint, he continued in a hissing but hushed tone, "The whole of the galaxy considers humanity an aggressive harrier, because no matter how much your people get, they want more! How much is enough? Haven't you all been paid back enough for the few unfortunate enough to have settled on that colony?"

She locked eyes with him. "If it were a turian colony attacked without reason or warning, but humanity only got a slap on the wrist and your government was given money for YOUR slain kin, would your family accept that and play nice? If it was the Hierarchy morning their dead and the council only intervening just before a full scale conflict, three months after the first shot was fired, would your government NOT consolidate their positions?" She annunciated each point by jamming her finger into arm of the bed she sat on. "If the brother of your mate, his heavily pregnant spouse, and their two year old child were killed by humans in what we called an 'incident' and a 'misunderstanding', would you feel very charitable toward us?"

Vakarian broke eye contact first. Truthfully, he would not and she knew it. He would thirst for revenge, he and his whole family, and would not stop until he was satisfied. He wondered what held her back from doing so-

"Political expedience," She spat the two words with almost the same amount of venom she had utilized earlier. She seemed to have read his shock as easily as she had read the unspoken question. "None of the politicos think about the actual cost, and the rest of the galaxy doesn't care what happens to us; we're just a means to an end. So, yes, we grab what we can and we hold. The Council is not invested in us, and will throw us under the proverbial bus just as soon as it is convenient. We are going to have to save ourselves when the time comes."

* * *

><p>The negotiations with the quarians and the geth were long and tedious, and more often than not, Commander Shepard cursed herself for agreeing to mediate. They were getting nowhere, and by the time she retreated back to her quarters the leader of the <em>Normandy<em> was ready to pound something flat; that was if she hadn't been so bone-achingly tired. 'I miss Katsumi and Samara already. They always kept me from tying myself in a knot. Garrus helps too, but I'm leaning on him too much already and that's not fair.' She felt, more than heard the movement of the turian completing his hygiene rituals in the bathroom they shared. He emerged a few moments later sporting a wicked looking comb she knew he used to brush away any stubborn shedding of the minor plates that made up his fringe. He set a data pad in front of her without comment, and the two of them turned their attention to the video footage EDI had captured for the day. As the two of them studied their surveillance, Shepard allowed one hand to skim the cool surface of the desk. The loft was in three-quarter brightness, easy enough to read by but dark enough to create a calming 'cocoon' feel. Garrus was rather puzzled by her habit of keeping their quarters dark, but thus far he had put up with it.

"You seem tense," her mate remarked casually in the darkness. "Is it the quarian-geth relations, the crazy parents, or the up-coming service bothering you?"

She felt the edge of one mandible tap the side of her neck as he leaned over her. "Can I pick all three?" she asked tiredly into the monitor, running her fingernails along her scalp and wishing absently that Cerberus had installed a deep bathing tub in her personal quarters instead of the utilitarian shower. The would never have in the first place; it was a massive waste of water on a ship that was forced to recycle the very air they breathed, and she would have objected even if they had somehow lost their minds and installed a personal spa. That did not stop her from longing for a pool of hot water to soak her aches away. Living on board space ships all your life tended to warp one's opinion of what consisted of a luxury. "Though right now, if I hear about one more well meaning person divulge one more aspect of this wrinkle between Legion and the Flotilla in general, someone is going though a wall."

He inclined his head in her direction; she felt it even as she caught a hint of the movement in the reflection of the screen. Evidently he agreed with her request, and changed the subject by gesturing toward the monitor. "Kelly seems to be of the opinion that the danger of physical altercations between those two is past, though they have done nothing but argue since your mother stopped with the silence treatment."

She tried to catch Garrus' eye with her peripheral vision, but he was too close to her to see anything but a gunmetal-grey and tan blur with cobalt markings. "What are they arguing about?" She turned her attention back to watching the two figures locked in sickbay shuffling about in fast-motion, looking for tell-tale body language that suggested violent aggression.

"Everything." Garrus gave the petite human spectre a look laden with irony. "Though hearing both of their excuses for their irrational hatred of each other's species was somewhat fascinating." The grin he gave her would have been lost to someone not familiar with turian body language, but it told her he was in good spirits, "It's rare to see my father speechless."

"That's not what Yeoman Chambers says," she wrinkled her nose at him. "What did she render him speechless about?"

"My father argued with your mother about our species' meeting." He glanced at her somewhat shyly, "Her arguments certainly are compelling. I'm glad she's not a Cerberus or Terra Firma spokeswoman. For my father, his arguments are reflexive and mostly intellectual. It's definitely personal with her though."

She reached out without looking and grasped his taloned fist before settling it comfortably on her shoulder, attempting to convey serenity, "Mom was close to my Aunt Myra, my dad's sister. They were friends even before mom and dad got married, and I was born very shortly before she got pregnant with my cousin. I remember playing with him. They were expecting their second child, a little girl, before they were killed."

Garrus looked at her with a small echo of empathy, trying to judge her feelings on the matter, like he always did. "How'd your father react to the news?"

"He reacted like you think he'd have reacted, but eventually he realized that a grudge would only poison him. It would not bring his family back and would never hurt the ones actually responsible. He forgave them before he died." Her tone was sad and nostalgic, but not beaten. She shook her head slightly, dismissing the subject. "Did you manage to contact your sister?"

The scarred turian clicked the claws of his free hand against the desk in agitation. "You were right, though how you knew I had a sister you still haven't told me. She was heading to Illium already to run some errands and to pick up some medications, and we can relive ourselves of one half of that violent equation." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, "My . . . mother will be with her. You weren't hoping to meet her, were you?"

She smiled sadly at his torn look; he didn't want his sister to see him, and he wasn't ready to introduce her to his mother who would not be far from Solana. "Garrus, I can take care of this without you needing to be there to secure introductions." She gently laid her hand on the scared side of his face, "I won't tell them any secrets you don't want known; they're your family. Just tell me what you want done."

He returned the bitter-sweet look, "Even if I don't know what I want?"

"Even so."

* * *

><p>"It's an interesting symbol your daughter wears," Vakarian said after a few hours of uneasy silence. He wondered if the human was going to ignore him again, but this time she made eye contact.<p>

"Ouroboros."

His head whipped around to stare at her, as he tried to figure out the translator glitch, "What?"

"The symbol," one pink finger formed a circle-motion, the movement distracting him momentarily. "It's an ouroboros."

"You can say that word as many time as you like- I am not going to know what you're meaning," his head jerked momentarily, reminding Hannah very strongly of a bird.

"It's an ancient symbol of a serpent or dragon consuming it's own tail. It shows up in some form in many of our oldest cultures. An ouroborus could be either good or evil, and it represents either an eternity or a repeating cycle. The rest should be self explanatory." Her voice had lost the venom at last, and the calm control had returned.

"The _Normandy_ as a sword, beheading the beast;" he nodded, as if musing for his own mind alone. "Simplistic and to the point; very telling if anyone was wondering if she still believes in the Reapers."

Hannah Shepard looked back at him, her eyes hard and her face a mask, "Only the insane want it to be true, but the evidence is starting to be overwhelming. The fact that geth," she gestured vaguely toward the back room Legion seemed to have commandeered for his quarters, "not only knew we called it _Sovereign_, but also had another name for it, _Nazzara,_ it is more than unsettling." She fell silent for a while, and Vakarian wondered if she was going to go back to ignoring him. Still, her comments proved she had been listening to his conversations even as she had given him her back.

After a time, she looked up again from her data pad. "What kind of person is Garrus?" Somehow, she still gave the impression that she was chewing glass, but that was fine with him as well. There could be no pretending they the closest of friends, and they had nothing in common but their children. All he wanted from her was to find out what kind of being her child was, because it was becoming all the more evident that Garrus was going to ignore him as usual. Still, he did not care for discussing family business with a stranger. It was necessary though, just like when interviewing a reluctant witness, you had to offer a bit of yourself in return for what you wanted to know. "Garrus is an extremely talented tactician. His morals are very hard set, and he has more gizzard than many turians half his age. He's impatient though, and hot headed. That's why I warned him away from training for Spectre cadency. I knew he'd be very tempted to take the short cuts and not do things the right way." Vakarian paused. "I was mad when he ran off with one Spectre to go chasing another. The Citadel is big, and they need every good cop they can keep. I was proud of him for his work in bringing down Saren- he was a stain on the plates of good turians everywhere, but I was even prouder when he went back to C-Sec." He made a show of rubbing his bruised hand- well on its way to healing, but still tender.

The human cocked her head to one side, an intense look on her face, though the exact emotion behind it was not clear to her cell-mate. "So why isn't he there now?"

Vakarian sighed, "I've been asking myself that for two and a half years now. It's like he went crazy when the first _Normandy_ went down. It's odd," he looked at the human with his mandibles demanding the answer to an unspoken question, "No one, not even his superiors managed to beat patience into him, but after serving on the _Normandy_, and he left C-Sec that last time, he somehow managed to put together a team and keep them together and focused on disrupting mercenary activity on the piss-hole that is Omega."

Hannah chuckled a little, surprising them both, "Don't blame me for my daughter's thought process. Her father was the patient one- I never understood how he could just sit in one spot for hours on end, going though every report with a fine-toothed comb," the turian's face contorted in puzzlement at the description which she ignored, "and wait for the situation to ripen. I never had that; snap decisions have always been my strength."

Vakarian turned to face her completely; his neck had become somewhat stiff from keeping half turned toward her and he knew she would see the door open before he did. "Her father- your mate, where is he?"

Her expression had always been angry before or milder versions of that emotion. He was used to seeing irritation, agitation, or rage from her; but her look was far away and withdrawn now. He cursed his lack of experience with her kind, but it seemed like old and deep sadness crawled across her face, making him feel quite the interloper in a very private moment. "He's dead," she said at last, "Early-onset Alzheimer's. He lived long enough to see our daughter graduate from boot-camp, but he kept asking where she was two days later. Alzheimer's-" she struggled for the right words, "It's an awful way to die. Your brain betrays you, and eventually you can't do the simplest of tasks for yourself. Usually only the elderly get it. He was older than me, but not that much."

Vakarian watched the human cover her face with her hands and press her digits against her eyes, as if she could scrub the bad memories away. He admitted to himself, his emotions were as tangled up as hers. He hated what her daughter had done to his son, he didn't like humanity in general for upsetting the balance of what had been established long before they got into space, and he reflexively (much to his quiet shame) didn't like her because she didn't like _him_. It would have been easy to settle into the comfortable position of hate. Somehow, he couldn't; empathy was starting to wind it's way into his mind. She was a parent; she knew the soaring highs and the devastating lows, the multifaceted dramas that came with offspring. She mourned her mate, her husband, like he may be doing one day far too soon. Maybe turians and humans were too alike, not too different.

It was not so difficult, or so far, he discovered to reach for her. He thought about it, and his hand moved to cover hers' like he had seen other humans when trying to express comfort. Staring into her strange eyes, wide with shock, and with low and broken tones he began to tell her about Corpalis Syndrome, and his mate. She listened to him quietly, without interrupting, except when he found himself at a loss for an appropriate word. Then she would somehow fill in something that fit how he felt exactly; the anger, the hopelessness, the guilt, and shame. It was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done, but as he unburdened himself he felt the stress begin to lessen and the ice that surrounded her began to melt. They understood each other.

For the moment, it was enough.

* * *

><p>Garrus discovered the peace in the medical bay when he swung by the next morning, and was frankly unnerved by it. His father was not looking at him expectantly or disapprovingly, and her mother didn't flinch when he entered the room. All the better for what he needed, but sudden changes in attitudes always put him on edge.<p>

"Father?" he asked formally to get his parent's attention. "Solana is coming by later today to pick you up. Mom will be with her, so you can go with them to get the medication the salarians picked out for her." His father did not reply, sensing his son had more to say. After a few moments, Garrus ducked his head and continued, "The Commander says you're free to move about the ship until they come to pick you up. She's not sure if she'll be available to send you off personally."

"And will you be coming with us?" the older turian asked, but without the usual guilt trip.

"No," Garrus said immediately, all the appeasement in his tone gone. "Mom has you and Solana. I am needed here. Shepard needs me to guard her six."

Once again Officer Vakarian was struck by the idea that his son was no small child any longer, but instead a hardened veteran of many types of warfare. His simple statement also spoke strongly of responsibility. In the end, he discovered, he could no longer argue with it. "Alright," he said slowly, struggling to keep any hint of onus out of his tone, "Are you going to see us off? I'm sure your mother would love to see you."

His son looked away for a moment, "I've been talking to Solana, but she doesn't know . . ." he turned slightly and extended his head so the bright light of the sick bay caught his scars, "about _any_ of it."

It took Vakarian a few moments to realize what Garrus was talking about. 'He must have been trying to keep his sister from worrying. Solana has a lot on her plate already.' He cleared his throat, "That's fine; I don't exactly want your sister yelling at me for getting captured by Eclipse mercs."

Garrus nodded briskly before turning to the other parent in the room. "Captain Shepard?"

"Yes?" The question was asked with cool politeness, not from hate or even mild suspicion, but instead as one who is attempting to avoid opening wounds.

It was not clear whose injuries she was being careful of, however. Garrus wondered what could have caused the change. His discomfort rushed to the forefront; he did not like unknowns at all.

Hannah Shepard watched the younger turian drop the 'professional' guise and for the first time seem somewhat, well, awkward.

"I went out into the markets looking for a gift for the Commander. I think I found what I was looking for but," he sighed. "Let's just say the store owner is not cooperating. Now, normally I'd say it's the fact that my face frightens small mammals, but it might be that he only wants to sell to humans."

Hannah's eyebrow attempted mightily to ascend past her hairline as she listened. She checked her credit balance on her omni-tool. "And what, exactly, are you trying to buy my daughter Gunnery Officer Vakarian?" She expected him to act embarrassed, but he laughed instead.

"Nothing illegal I promise. I'll tell you about it on the way. Father, the rest of the crew is on shore leave, so expect it to be quiet. If you're interested, the Commander has cleared most of the information we've gathered for you to see."

The retired turian stared blankly at his son, "Did you ask her to?" At his nod, he continued, Why?"

Garrus shrugged. "Shepard wants as many people as aware of the Reaper threat as possible. You'll come to your own conclusions, which is why I suggested just giving you the data when she asked me. She's been trying to get the whole crew to warn their extended families, probably so there are no distractions when the real fight starts. At least, that's my guess." He glanced back at the middle-aged human female, "So, are you interested in a little excursion?"

"Just let me brush out my hair and I'll be ready to go," she told him as she attempting to rush by. He caught her shoulder momentarily and shoved something into her hands. She was surprised to see it was an M-3 Predator pistol, modified with warp ammo- extremely lethal against biotic foes. She looked up at him questioningly, attempting to decide how to phrase-

"Illium can be as beautiful as it is deadly," he interrupted her thoughts. "No one sets foot off the _Normandy_ without at least one weapon. Not you, not me, not even Joker," Garrus looked very serious for a moment as he turned to face his parent, "That goes for you too Father. There's an M-8 Avenger near the Main Batteries we loaded with armor-piercing ammo that Shepard says that may you take with you when you leave- we have better now." He nodded at the two of them as they quickly covered up the surprise they were both feeling. "Also, don't sign anything. I'm ready to go at your convince, Captain Shepard."

Hannah nodded at him before attaching the holster the gun had come in and leaving sick bay for the first time in what had felt like months.

* * *

><p>The human captain and the turian rebel didn't go directly to the store. Women of all species seem to share an ability to attain a grindingly-slow pace when searching for something among scores of merchants, and Hannah was no different. Neither particularly minded, though Garrus had hoped the outing would go along a little faster, because it gave the two of them time to learn about each other. Garrus was surprisingly relaxed, Hannah found. He had a powerful but dry sense of humor, and she noted he would slowly drift around her. He was likely watching her back, probably out of habit. She slowly felt better about his involvement with her daughter- at least on the combat side of the equation. If he watched her daughter's back like this all the time, that was likely as safe as she was going to stay, considering what the two of them did for a living. Tentatively, she respected him.<p>

It was not lost on Garrus, however, that the human woman was somewhat tense around him; something her daughter would have described as 'walking on egg shells'. He was not one to reject whatever delicate truce his father and her had come to, and pretended not to notice her discomfort. Eventually they got back on the subject of his 'gift'. "Your daughter had an icon she wore with her tags. It was destroyed and not recovered with the rest of her. I would like to replace it." Garrus shrugged casually, as though he had not put a great deal of thought into it.

"An icon?" Hannah Shepard pressed, "What kind?"

"A spiritual icon- she said she got it for some coming of age ceremony-" he tried to dance around the words, struggling to describe what he had no context for.

Recognition lit her eyes momentarily as he paused in front of a shop- apparently the one giving him trouble. "Her crucifix?" she asked. "I'm surprised you even noticed."

His nonchalant demeanor did not change. "It's important to her. Of course I noticed. My problem is the merchant keeps dismissing me out of hand."

Hannah nodded, unsurprised. "After the First Contact War, when we discovered the universe was quite a bit more populated than we had ever imagined and had been going along without us for thousands of years, a massive push was made to marginalize all religions that were not closer to a 'life style'. Humanity's future was among the stars, and religion was only tying us down to Earth." She sighed, "The general consensus was religion made us appear weaker and backward, and we had to move past it to take any significant role in galactic society. Religious people are not actively persecuted per say, but if you're religious and in the military you are strongly advised to keep it to yourself. It's more subtle among the civilians, but not by much."

Garrus turned to look at her, attempting to decide if she was trying to make fun of his ignorance. "But most species have several major religions. Some of them have even gone cross-species. That doesn't make any sense." He sighed, "But that does explain why Ashley Williams seemed defensive about it when Shepard would have her little talks with her."

Hannah half smiled, "Are you telling me that you used to eavesdrop on private conversations when you were serving aboard the first _Normandy_?" her tone was teasing, but she got the impression of embarrassment anyway.

"It wasn't deliberate," he said at last. "She was really hard on the Mako, and I found myself doing a lot of repairs on it- Spirits, if I had a credit every time I rebalanced the suspension, I'd be a very rich vigilante. Besides, if she wanted to talk to Williams privately Shepard would have taken the both of them out of the cargo hold." Garrus activated the door, and gestured for Hannah to go ahead of him.

"Of course." She took the opportunity to look around her in surprise. A little shop catering to religious humans was not exactly what she had expected on an asari world, though the more she thought about it the more it made sense. Illium was the primary stop on the way to the Terminus systems, and the unspoken embargo of religion would never stop the missionaries of any religion. The shop sported just about everything she could imagine needing; from copies of the Vedas, beautifully crafted menorah, stacks of omamori, and finally a collection of cross pendants hanging in the back.

She turned to Garrus before she noted the look of annoyance on the shop-clerks face. The elderly human rounded the corner; his posture similar to what Hannah had seen when grumpy old men screamed at the youngest generation to 'stay the hell off his lawn'. The fact that he could not have physically removed a child from the store; much less a battle-hardened soldier in his prime seemed to be no detriment to him.

"Look turian, I told you before-" he was saying before Hannah physically inserted herself in the space between them.

"Easy," she told him, her hands raised in the universal sign of truce, "He's with me." The craggy-faced man looked first to her, and then to Garrus. The suspicion seemed to increase, but he left the younger individual alone and began to grill Hannah. "What brings you to this shop with a turian?" he demanded. Hannah simply removed the chain on which her dog-tags were strung, and handed them to the shopkeeper. "Captain Hannah Shepard of the Alliance military," he read aloud before rubbing his fingers over the medicine pouch that was laced along side the tags, "Any relation to Commander Shepard, the Hero of the Citadel?"

Hannah allowed a brief smile, "She's my daughter."

The man grunted neutrally, returning his attention to the tiny leather pouch. His eyes asked a question, which she answered with an incline of her head. His fingers deftly pulled on the small thong and fished out a small coin. Inscribed on one side was a cross overlaying a fish, and words on the other. He smiled at the little fetish before replacing it with as soft jingle as it stuck something else in the bag, and handing the whole affair back with grave dignity. "Sorry ma'am. We've had bad bouts lately. If it isn't one group demanding I get rid of another group's merchandise, it's the aliens who want to cause trouble."

"We're not here for trouble," she assured him. "This is Garrus Vakarian, who serves with my daughter."

Garrus cleared his throat uncomfortably, but if he had been offended by the exchange he bit his tongue for the moment. "Commander Shepard had one of those," he pointed to the cross pendants on the far wall, "That she wore with her tags. It was destroyed, and I know she hasn't taken the time to replace it."

"Ah," the merchant nodded, as if something he said had solved a great mystery beyond what was obvious. "I'm sorry I misunderstood your intentions. Do you know what she wants?"

"The one she had," he looked carefully at each pendant, "it had a human on it."

"Oh! You're saying she had a crucifix." The merchant looked back toward Hannah for confirmation, "I'm sorry, but you're not going to be able to find one like that anywhere. They've fallen far out of style- most want to think that we're civilized and won't tolerate anything that graphic."

Garrus puzzled over what he meant, but decided he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer from either of them. He studied the group for a few moments longer, but nothing he saw moved him. Garrus was getting ready to ask if perhaps the human had more in his store room when he noticed a small glimmer of one necklace that toppled out of ready sight. He reached out and caught the delicate chain on the tip of one claw and drew the pendant attached up from where it had fallen. "Then I think this one will do." The way Shepard's mother grinned back at him eased a small bit of his anxiety over choosing something special for his commander when he had no clue about the symbolism of any of it. The merchant pulled him away to get down to the serious business of haggling, and relatively quickly the two of them reached a sum of credits both felt comfortable with. Garrus had the sneaking suspicion that the human had not bargained as closely as he could have, and had not pressed due to shame for chasing him out of the store the day before. The turian was more than slightly annoyed at the idea. 'I didn't want special treatment damn it, I want to be treated fairly the first time! Oh well,' he thought to himself as they left the store and meandered back in the direction of the _Normandy_, 'At least I got what I came here for.'

The quiet of the evening should have been drowsy and relaxing; instead it made Garrus' plates itch. Something was not right. The sun setting on Illium was a little too perfect, and somehow he kept hearing something that was not in line with the milling customers and the merchants hocking their wares. Paranoia maybe. . .

But the glint of metal gave him enough warning to pull Hannah Shepard out of the way and into a set of potted plants that had been placed for aesthetics alone. His paranoia probably saved their lives as the whine of a slug passing though the space they had previously occupied momentarily made both of them wince. Then that feeling, along with everything else was shoved away in lieu of the heightened super-awareness that battle always brought. The turian noted the white and orange battle armors as well as a very familiar symbol that made him curse vividly, and would have possibly embarrassed some krogan if they'd been near enough to hear him.

"Garrus Vakarian to _Normandy_! We are under fire from Cerberus operatives- request backup to our co-ordinates immediately! Hannah Shepard is with me," Garrus screamed into his com, hoping someone had stayed behind instead of going on shore leave.

* * *

><p>Solana Vakarian was not what Shepard expected, she realized as she escorted the two female turians around the <em>Normandy<em>, though Shepard was not exactly sure what she had been expecting. Solana reminded her strongly of both of the other Vakarian clan Shepard had met. She was strong, stubborn, and vivacious, with a sense of humor that would have been cutting if not for Shepard's experience with Garrus. Shepard liked her- they shared a take-no-prisoner's attitude, and her gut told her that she also had the deep and unshakeable loyalty that marked her brother. In short, not someone she wanted to make an enemy out of, despite being worn down from being her mother's caretaker.

Garrus' mother did not speak much, and even less directly to Shepard. She quietly wondered if the matriarch disapproved of her, if she was a turian of few words, or if this was some cultural divide. She accepted Garrus' absence with almost no questioning, although it was very likely she left the actual questioning to Solana, who fired them off in rapid succession and continued to rephrase her questions in an attempt to catch her in a lie.

"So, why can't you tell me where Garrus is? He is with you isn't he?" Solana pressed as Dr. Chakwas performed an once-over on Garrus' mother. Mordin was going to do the same as soon as he returned from picking up some particular items for the medical bay and laboratory that they had either run completely out of or Cerberus had never stocked in the first place.

Shepard sighed, wondering what exactly she was supposed to do to keep Solana off of her brother, and just how long Garrus had assumed she could accomplish it. She snuck a quick glance at her Omni-tool. It was getting late, and she was supposed to meet with Liara for a casual dinner. She had already placed the prothean orb in a satchel, and she had intended to have the asari doctor study the thing. Liara may have become an information broker (and something quite a bit more than 'just' one of the best at that), but the protheans had been under the good doctor's careful study for quite a bit longer than she had been practicing her new profession. She'd taken the thing in the first place in hopes that Liara could have unlocked it's secrets, and truthfully Shepard knew they were running out of time for such leisurely studies.

Dr. Chakwas sighed gustily before looking at Garrus' father, who was hovering like a new father; and Solana, who despite the fact that neither of the turians probably had any idea what a hen was, she was trying mightily to henpeck the Commander.

"Out." The single word startled all the turians, though not Shepard, who had been surprised Chakwas had put up with the commotion as long as she had. "All of you." The doctor waved her arm as if she could shove them all out of sick bay by will alone. "You're being distracting and getting in my way." Chakwas, like many good doctors, had the ability to sound firm but not insulting.

Shepard sighed, "Look, she's right. It's a nice day out, and I have somewhere to be shortly. Let's go out to enjoy what's left of the day, so we can talk and leave Dr. Chakwas in peace. The Eternity Bar is not far from here."

Solana looked like she might argue, but another glare from Chakwas caused a sigh of her own before she led the procession from sick bay with all the poised grace of a diplomat.

'I swear,' Shepard mused privately, 'the Vakarians need to patent that swagger.'

* * *

><p>The walk toward Eternity was not far, but they still did not make it. Somewhere near a biotic amp kiosk Shepard's com went off, hearing Garrus' distress call. The cry for help was so loud, she didn't need the shocked and horrified looks on his family members' faces to know they'd heard every word. The tone in his voice filled her blood with adrenaline, and she could feel her heartbeat increase in readiness. The feeling was always heady, but she controlled it- it did not control her.<p>

"EDI," she barked into her comm., "I need the names of the squad-members closest to his position, stat!"

"Commander," EDI replied, calm in even dire circumstances, "You are the closest of all available squad members. The closest individual besides yourself is Jack, who is an additional ten minutes away."

"Acknowledged. EDI tell everyone within fifteen minutes distance to haul ass to Garrus' coordinates. The asari strippers are going to have to wait." She was already moving, almost without having thought about it consciously. She was briefly aware of two presences, one just behind each shoulder, as she stormed though the busy streets filled with people taking enjoyment from the embers of the dying day. She avoided the civilians easily, but she had a good idea who was following her into hell. As she neared the sounds of gunfire, and had to push though retreating civilians, Shepard paused briefly behind a wall to check her shotgun. Sure enough, instantly flanking her was Solana Vakarian and her father.

She glared at the both of them, "You shouldn't be here. This is no place for civilians."

Garrus' sister matched her glare for glare. "There are NO turian civilians, remember? Besides, he's just a member of your crew. He's _my_ brother." She yanked a small arms pistol out from a concealed holster, where the spectre knew she had been hiding it. Commander Shepard bit her tongue for a moment, trying to think of an appropriate argument, since the retort she wanted to make would help no one, and they were running out of time.

Offer Vakarian reached across her suddenly to place one hand on Solana's shoulder. "That's not true Sol, and you know it. We don't have the time to argue." He looked at Shepard with a penetrating stare, "We're both armed and trained. You heard your V.I.; no one else is close."

The spectre drew in one more deep breath, feeling her focus sharpen. "Fine, don't get left behind."

* * *

><p>Garrus was in the mist of reloading the assault rifle he carried (his precious sniper rifle was useless in these close quarters, and he didn't dare leave the safety of the cover they had secured long enough for him to find a high vantage point) when he heard a familiar battle-scream, and watched one of the assault troopers get thrown off the side of the ledge and hit the ground four stories down. The soldier next to him was distracted by his comrade's unplanned flight, and was rewarded with a new hole between his eyes for his inattention. Hannah ducked her head back behind cover and waited for the next opportunity. Only once they were safely out of the line of fire did either of them try to catch sight of the new comer; though Garrus knew exactly who it was.<p>

Knowing was leagues away from seeing the commander lit with a fierce but channeled rage. She was minus her armor- her form flickering in the reflective cyan of a biotic barrier, but Garrus knew the leader of the _Normandy_ was still deadly, even if she had only been clothed with her dignity. He also knew this rage intimately; someone had threatened her crew, and so she was going to help the poor bastards dig their graves before she pushed them spoke to something in him, as it always did; something primal, and as intoxicating as the best alcohol. He loved this.

Hannah sensed the change in Garrus; something beyond the sudden switch and immersion into his solider persona. He was radiating joy, if she understood the expression on his face and his body language. He was practically vibrating with it. She looked beyond the turian, and saw her daughter storming up the ramp like some avenging angel. Glowing yellow-orange scars spider webbed across her face, and she thought she caught a reflection of the red depths of hell reflected in them. 'I'm not seeing things. There are red lights glowing from her eyes.'

Commander Shepard gestured briefly, and the turian female who was only just then visible waved her omni-tool at one of the mechs. The synthetic exploded in a mass of sparks and wires, it's voice processors garbled out some last words while the rest of the Loki mechs advanced ruthlessly. The other turian on her right, whom Hannah recognized as Officer Vakarian, was ruthlessly laying down suppressing fire. This was forcing the rest of the Cerberus assault team undercover.

"SCRATCH ONE!" Garrus' father yelled, as a centurion did not move fast enough toward the dubious safety of the wall. He watched his son prep a concussive shot, and signal to Shepard he was ready. The commander instantly yanked one of the entrenched enemies out of cover with another cyan biotic display. Hand in glove; Garrus blew away the exposed Cerberus agent. The retired C-Sec cop had always believed he'd worked with a tight group, but watching the two of them reunite and develop a plan without words- they fit. It was almost too intimate to bear.

A bullet hissed as it passed uncomfortably close to his head. "PAY ATTENTION!" the human spectre screamed at him, not sparing a glance in his direction. Officer Vakarian ducked behind cover again, and adjusted where he was firing to give the damn zealots something else to think about. Solana, who was crouched to his right, hacked another mech and sent it off to destroy some more of its allies, her omni-tool glowing briefly. The screams eventually became less numbered, though none there could have said if it had taken ten minutes or ten hours before Shepard unleashed a shockwave to knock the final agent away from cover. She knew the Cerberus foot soldier would be struggling to get to his feet, and so she advanced with little caution, her shotgun at the ready. She felt the botic shielding flicker and die as she allowed her focus to drift to where she would need it next.

The orange, grey, and white clad fighter saw her and scrambled toward his gun, scrambling behind cover as he did so. As she rounded the corner and got a good visual of the man, he brought his weapon to bear. The both squeezed the trigger at the same time. The last man of the assault team went down. His bullet kept traveling, however, even though he was dead before he hit the ground. It was poorly aimed, and would not have stuck the spectre-

But the satchel she was still carrying, because she'd not dared let it into enemy hands, was right in its path. The mirrored orb inside exploded like a Christmas ornament dropped from a great height, ripping though the bag and imbedding itself all along the left side of her body. An extremely unlucky shard pierced the bio-amp at the base of her skull.

Commander Shepard fell to the bullet riddled ground, completely unaware of the horrified cries that came from her lover and both of their families.


	5. Chapter 5: Advent

Author's Note: When writing this story, the first name of Commander Shepard has been deliberately omitted. If the interspecies romance (**AND SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER**) contained herein offends you- then go no further gentle reader, there are many other fantastic Mass Effect fan-fictions out there. The Shepard household and the Vakarian clan are major extrapolations on what little we know about them, and as such a great deal of their personalities is up to interpretation. So please feel free to leave your thoughts. Special thanks to my husband beta-reader who has been putting up with this story for the last four months or so.

_ Disclaimer: No characters in the following fan-fiction belong to the authoress, but instead belong to Bioware or their prospective owners. The authoress takes no responsibility to any relation to anything, living or dead, as it is purely coincidental. _

**Waypoint:**

Chapter Five: Advent

"_But she's more fragile than she seems. She needs your help, and your love, or she will die."_

_ -The Diva Plavalagima, The Fifth Element_

_ Darkness. At first she was disturbed by it. She had lived all her life with vision and light, but as time stretched on in the void she found herself drifting in, she began to remember the darkness from before she had taken her first breath of oxygen, squalling at the top of her lungs from the sensation of cold. She had been here before. She had been afraid then, as now, until she had heard that much-loved voice calling to her, a sound that would become her own; the name she had been given. But before that, there had been the darkness._

_ And darkness in the womb was nothing to fear._

_ Something was pushing her onward, pulling out and beyond. Something that was not conscious thought, but just above base instinct. It drained energy from her as she flailed, reaching for support that was not there. Memory that was not her own coalesced as a tiny spark light the abyss she floated in. For a brief moment, there was joy-_

_ And then she swallowed the star, it forcing its' way inside of her, toward her heart and mind. The base of her skull burned sharp pain, and the pain would not die any more than she would. The knowledge she scarcely understood set her vessel-self on fire, and in the end the star swallowed her, forcing her up, and out, and beyond._

_ The light was equally terrifying and beautiful . . ._

* * *

><p>"SHEPARD!" Garrus screamed. The turian achieved a dizzying lope, driven by a desperate need to defend his commander. He sensed dimly that Hannah Shepard was right on his heels. Somehow, old training beaten into him by a grizzled turian drill instructor allowed him to bark out orders to the <em>Normandy<em>, updating them and calling for an emergency shuttle. He swept the area for more Cerberus scum who might have escaped once with his rifle before attempting to administer first aid.

'Always secure the area before attending to wounded,' his father had told him once. 'You're no help to anyone if you get shot too.' Garrus rolled his commanding officer over, kneeling in the growing pool of scarlet and applying pressure and medi-gel to the worst of the wounds. "NOT BREATHING!" he screamed over his shoulder, damning his inability to breathe for her as he scanned her with his omni-tool. Her heart had stopped.

An old memory from just after the Battle for the Citadel had been won, and the _Normandy's _crew had been acting as first responders in the rubble, prompted him to place both hands on her chest and push rhythmically. He counted out loud as he pressed firmly, taking care to not break her more delicate ribs, mimicking what he remembered. The strange color of her blood added an unreal quality to the danger he knew she was in; it was deceiving in its own way. He was vaguely aware of Shepard's mother kneeling next to him. Garrus stared, but did not fall out of rhythm as Hannah tipped her daughter's head back, exposing her throat. The captain wrenched the spectre's jaws apart and covered her mouth with her own, breathing for her daughter. This 'rescue breathing' was one of the first things that the asari had adopted from humanity in general; before contact with the humans they had done something similar using biotics to stimulate the shocked organs. Small flickers of blue biotics irregularly lit up around her prone body as the moment stretched on.

"Stop." Tiny human hands grabbed his talons, and pressed them back to the wound in Shepard's side, which had resumed leaking vermilion. "Her heart's beating again. Let me." Garrus cursed the thick skin that covered him, preventing him from feeling when her heart had resumed. He absently noticed the overlapping bloody talon prints he had left from his efforts, as well as the strengthening of the biotic displays in the strange hyper aware state the adrenaline had forced him into.

"Come on Honey, come back to us," Hannah Shepard repeated over and over between puffs of breath, almost like a chant. Garrus' family closed ranks around them, guarding their vulnerable backs. His father's head jerked slightly, watching something through his sight.

"Garrus," Officer Vakarian reported while looking though the scope on his weapon, "that tattooed human from your ship is heading towards us at an impressive speed," he said to his son, dismissing the human as an immediate threat, and moving on to the next possible problem. The high ground and superior vantage point were the only things that kept him from insisting on moving away from the carnage. If they had been attacked here once, they may be again.

Garrus acknowledged the intelligence his father was constantly updating him with, but he left his own safety in the talons of his family. His whole being was focused on preventing the life-giving fluid from leaking out between his grasp and the rhythm of Hannah Shepard as they fought for the life beneath them. They couldn't seem to stall the bleeding long enough to make the medi-gel seal the wound completely. A large shard from the orb was still protruding from her side, and the medi-gel would not adhere to it. Garrus did not dare yank it out, fearing Shepard would bleed to death even with him right there. "_Normandy_," he shouted into his comm., "Where the fuck is my shuttle?"

"Two minutes," Joker replied, sounding strained. Garrus could hear the forceful hiss-wheeze of Joker in intense concentration.

Jack rounded the corner at top speed, pistol in one hand and a fist full of biotics in the other, looking ready to gleefully smear whatever she found across the wall in a pulpy mess. Jack's eyes swept past the two armed turians without a thought and stared at the pool of blood beneath the prone body of their commander, flickering with a blue pulsing that was slowly growing more pronounced. "Shit," Jack spat, lowering her weapon as she glanced around at the situation. The marked convict paced around the body once, some half remembered knowledge making her restless as she watched the emergency aid and the blue lightning arch from limb to limb though narrowed eyes. An epiphany stuck the biotic criminal with all the force of a punch to the gut. "Fuck!" she screamed, turning toward her crewmate and the older woman, both unaware of the danger. "Get back!"

Seemingly without warning, Shepard's eyes shot open and her entire body arched backward as one might string a bow, screaming as though she was being flayed alive.

* * *

><p><em>She floated in a sea of lightning, with no colors she could accurately describe. She was being filled, overflowing; like a balloon with too much water, or a cup with too much tea. Her 'self' might not survive the experience, she knew, but she was trapped in gossamer threads of pure energy. The more she struggled, the tighter they pulled.<em>

_ *You should not be here.*_

_ She sensed the presence that spoke to her drift near, deliberate and free. It was massive and, she sensed, extremely powerful. The form was like that of a monstrous wolf-lion, winged, with both feathers and fur; and yet, not exactly. It studied her with the same seriousness a predator would give an unknown. *Go Back,* it told her- but not in words. The thing spoke with images and feelings that were as alien as her first brush with the prothean beacon. It loomed over her, and seized her mind in an unbreakable grip. She thrashed beneath it as it began to yank out reams of memory and experiences from her. She screamed without voice or sound, and tried to erect a barrier to get away._

_ The creature leapt away as if stung. The instinct to shield herself had been strong- though she could no longer remember where she had learned it. At once the thing was gone, as was the over-full sensation; all of it had vanished as soon as the biotic shield had come up. She was still caught however, and she was not sure how much strength she had to maintain the barrier._

* * *

><p>Like a coiled spring wound in response to the danger and then released, Jack shot forward, though her warning had not come in time to prevent the explosion of biotic energy that slapped Garrus and Hannah away effortlessly. Cords of biotic power whipped like snakes escaping hell, slamming into Jack with incredible, chaotic force. A harsh sound, somewhere between a grunt and a howl seemed to focus the convict long enough to stay on her feet, in spite of the energy that attempted to toss her like a stray dog fighting over the last bit of marrow. Subject Zero forced herself to move toward Shepard's vaulted form, fighting for each step. With enough strength to box her ears, Jack slammed her hands on either side of the commander's head. Her boots left deep furrows in the dust and the biotic field forcefully dragged the two of them. She shook violently trying to hold them both in place and for a moment everyone present feared that the tattooed female, as well as the commander, were about to join the Cerberus agents Shepard had thrown off the balcony. Three heartbeats later, the cyan glow of active and out of control biotics ceased; save for a few sparkles down Shepard's greaves and a few answering ones dancing down Jack's hands. "What the fuck. . ." Jack's voice shook with strain and effort, "Are you assholes doing? Don't just stand . . . there. She's . . . going . . . to bleed out."<p>

Garrus and Hannah scrambled back on to their feet, desperation lending them speed, if not trembling, hands and claws.

Solana tasted ash on her tongue as she resumed her guard stance, trying to decide if she regretted not shooting the foolish human female who had moved between her gun and the now still form of the dying human. Instead, she watched her brother attempting to staunch the flow of life giving fluid. Garrus was making a soft crooning sound of distress, though Solana had no idea if he was aware of the noises that rumbled though his chest. His sister could not help but stare, despite the danger. The scars that were etched into the right side of his face were mostly covered by a bandage, but they hinted at a terrible but several month old injury. Most women probably would never look at him again. More disturbing, her brother the tactician was entrusting the entity of his safety to his father and sister; Solana was not sure if she was flattered or disturbed by it. Her gaze moved back out toward the possible assault points, noting again with more than a little awe the kind of destruction their little group had achieved in seconds. Bullet holes riddled the walkway, with chunks of the safety barricades missing. She glanced back at the marked human woman with the shorn fringe. She was fighting as hard as the others for the life of the leader of the _Normandy_. Solana wondered with more than a little unease what kind of personality sponsored such fanatic allegiance.

Jack moved her hands to cradle what was left of Shepard's biotic amp, allowing the old woman to continue to force her daughter to breathe. Subject Zero wanted to cry, whether in rage or something else she would not closely examine, and she could not afford the distraction.

"How are you doing that?" Garrus asked, as he reapplied the medi-gel. The mercurial shard had disappeared and now he was managing to coax the life saving mass to cleave to the injury.

"You know how you can stop," Jack took a shaky breath, "One explosion with another one?" The turian asshole nodded. What a jerk for making her talk- couldn't he see that this was hard? "-'s like that," she gasped out.

The wind picked up as a shuttle bore down on them at a speed that made Solana dive out of the way. A hard break on the impulse engines pitched the small craft toward them for a moment before righting itself. The landing was a precision maneuver into a space that just barely fit the shuttle beside them. They were not completely settled on the ground before the cargo hatch opened and two human females rushed out, one of which Solana recognized as the doctor who had been checking on her mother. The dark-fringed one leapt to the ground with grace and precision, while the other obviously struggled slightly with the maneuver. The doctor did not seem to care about her ungainly dismount, and had eyes only for her injured leader.

"Hold on Commander," Chakwas breathed as she knelt next to Shepard's still form, professionally taking charge of the situation, "We've got you."

* * *

><p><em>She was weakening- she felt the edges of the barrier she erected thinning in spite of every attempt she made to keep them up. This place of light would consume her completely; defusing her personality and all the memories that made her who and what she was until she no longer existed. She was a speck of sand in a roiling sea, and her dispersal was only a matter of time. The light offered peace and serenity, the chance to lay down all the burdens she was beginning to only remember dimly, but she still resisted.<em>

_ Something touched her then, piercing the dying shields easily. As the creature before, it rifled though her mind. Unlike it the new arrival did not feel so completely alien, and she no longer had the strength to push the creature away from her mind. It pulled her within it's own barrier easily._

_ *Childer.*_

_ She startled. Unlike the hazy images and half born commands taken from basic instinct, the voice she heard was clear and focused. _

_ *Childer,* it asked again, *How did you come to be here?*_

_ Half-remembered, unclear recollection surfaced. The creature shuffled though her memories again, putting pieces together until they fit. The self-that-was stared at the creature, as focus cleared her sight._

_ It was not as massive as the one before it, but still large. Female, and winged, with flame for hair, and burnished silver markings trailing from a spot between her two slanted eyes down the rest of her body. The creature was humanoid, but the proportions were all wrong- impossibility long limbs with four fingers, massive eyes that seemed three or four sizes too large, and a star field in place of an iris. It was beautiful, but strange. She wanted to know what and who the thing was._

_ *The answer to 'what' I am,* the female-thing sounded amused, *is easier to answer than 'who'. I am a soldier-guardian-protector,* the last word was more of a concept that had no meaning to the lost-self. She struggled with the strangeness of the Other. *Your peoples appear to place either too little or too much emphasis on what. This is foolishness- gender, species, all of it is context. Nothing more and nothing less than that; to take away or add is to lessen the whole. Now,* it sent to her as it's mind steeled with no trace of amusement, *Tell me, who and what are you?*_

* * *

><p>Hannah pressed one of her daughter's hands to her own forehead, clasping the limp limb with hands that warmed the chilled flesh. The space around the spectre's bedside was crowded, but no one had tried to pull her away from her daughter as of yet. More correctly, the whole sickbay was crowded- the other half of the room was taken up by Clan Vakarian going over the salarian scientist's examination of Officer Vakarian's spouse. Hannah tried to tune them out, in the same way she tried to tune out the stale, sterile taste of the air in the room. She had learned to dislike hospitals with a passion that had rivaled her dislike of turians; her husband had spent far too much time in a cold, unforgiving building that reeked of ethanol and bleach. The little room on the <em>Normandy<em> was not as bad fortunately; not that it would have mattered where her daughter was being held. She would be there regardless.

She caught Garrus looking back at her daughter again. The poor turian looked horribly torn, and kept glancing back toward his commanding officer as if he wanted to grab her and take her far away from all of them- or like he blamed himself for her injuries. With a quiet sigh, she allowed her attention to wander back toward the two biotics who were keeping her daughter's abilities under control while Dr. Chakwas prepared to try to salvage the socket that still held parts of the broken amp.

Their fingertips were just barely touching, Jack's gnarled, calloused, and oddly colored in places from a life of living on the edge and malnutrition. Miranda Lawson's fingers were surprisingly graceful in comparison, but still marked by an occupation that required frequent use of a gun. They did not look at each other, but instead worked in a quiet concert Hannah would never have believed them capable of if she had not witnessed it herself. It was delicate work, and there could be no mistakes. Normally a biotic receiving their amp for the first time would either be untrained and weak or wide awake, and Commander Shepard was neither; thus the need to have an external control. Jack provided the raw biotic power of the link, and Miranda the finesse. Lines of strain were beginning to show on their faces.

A slight sound startled Hannah. Behind her left shoulder stood a quarian, Tali, who was waiting patiently for her attention. The instant she could tell Hannah had made eye contact with her, the masked woman cleared her throat again. "Please tell Miranda that Jacob and I are going out to try to unload some more of the eezo we have on board."

The old human stared at the purple mask, trying to discern the reasons for her actions. "I'll tell her," Captain Shepard paused, "Don't you want to stay?" "Of course I want to stay!" Tali said it with a fierceness that shocked her. "But Shepard is going to wake up and want an update on the offloading of our cargo. She trusts me to take care of it, and trusts Jacob to watch my back. I'm sure someone will call us if she wakes up before we return." The quarian gave a significant glance toward the two women unaware of her presence, "I'm calling Liara," she announced to the room in general. "Those two need a break."

Hannah nodded even as she scoured her memory for who Liara was. She stared down at her daughter, as if she could find the answers there. 'I remember you mentioning a Dr. Liara Tsoni. I wonder if that's the same person. You said Liara was something of a shy bookworm, and not good with people; I think she was an asari, but that doesn't mean she can handle what Jack and Ms. Lawson are doing.'

"Do not bother," a voice called from behind them both, "I am here already."

Hannah and Tali turned, and the human captain could see the slight shift from "professional" to "among friends", though quarian body language tended to be exaggerated due to the lack of facial expressions, Hannah noted the change and proceeded to study the asari newcomer. She was perhaps a little short for her people, a light shade of blue and covered with a smattering of freckles. All of this was very unimposing, and a little cute if taken on it's own- but the body language was something else. The asari stood with an underlying energy, like a compressed spring, but it was tempered with a focus that spoke of a personality that was prone to fixation, even obsession. 'This is Liara?' Hannah wondered, 'I always believed my daughter thought of her like a younger sister.'

The asari nodded briefly to Tali, "I contacted Joker when Shepard became late for our dinner. He told me everything, and suggested I make the trip to the _Normandy_. I have melded with Shepard before and I should be able to wake her."

Dr. Chakwas nodded in greeting to the young doctor as she and Mordin managed to detangle herself from the turian group. The three spoke in hushed tones rapidly with the scientific language, which Hannah had never mastered understanding. Finally Liara placed one hand on Jack and Miranda's shoulders, startling the two of them out of the link. Miranda stepped away while her tattooed counterpart who slumped where she sat, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat that caused her mascara to run slightly.

Liara stepped around Jack, sliding the chair Miranda had occupied to a new position just above her old leader's head. The asari bowed her head once in preparation, ignoring the cyan flickers of building biotic energy.

Hannah looked across the way, meeting eyes with Garrus, who had been staring with naked longing at her daughter since long before Liara had come into sickbay. An odd mix of pity and empathy welled up, unwelcome, but as damning as her conscience. She jerked her head toward him, inviting him to be near her. He hesitated. Hannah watched his father whisper something in his ear on the undamaged side of his face that made the turian's eyes widen in surprise. He glanced toward his mother, who had been reclining comfortably in the other bed. Whatever she said to him must have relived his concerns because he hurried over to her side with almost indecent haste.

She watched him for a few moments, then gave up her seat for him. She wandered back towards his family to be out of the way, mixed feelings about the whole situation twisting up what little balance she had left. But when she glanced back, the heartbreaking sight of the massive, dangerous predator nuzzling helplessly at her daughter's had made her pause. Suddenly she felt better about giving up her chair.

"I knew something was wrong when he refused to link up for video," She heard Solana whisper to her mother urgently, "I should have pushed the issue."

She almost missed Liara's iris' go as completely black as the void between stars. The asari stared down into her daughter's face and whispered, "Embrace Eternity."

* * *

><p><em> A lifetime might have passed, or only seconds. The guardian grilled her mercilessly, asking questions and then moving on to the next as soon as an answer began to form in her mind. The inquiries had begun with general thoughts- *What is your world like? What is your family like?* and had moved on slowly to more and more in depth questions, *Why did you leave your soldier-strength-friend/ behind? Why did you destroy your enemies stronghold?* Finally the thing had gone away for a time and she had drifted in it's absence, cradling a memory of being loved and held to her- though she could not remember a face. Somehow the shadow of a thought forced her to keep from dispersing into nothingness._

_ When it returned it seized her mind again and resumed interrogating her, this time shoving a scene into her mind, foreign but layered with instant context with only one question, *What would you do?* Her mind snapped into focus, a decision forefront in her mind. The image faded and another formed. Again, the question *What would you do?* pressed against her mind._

_ At last the guardian sensed her vessel-self becoming thin, and eased away from her allowing her some privacy but kept her within it's barrier. *My turn,* the-self-that-was hissed at it. * What is this place?*_

_ *What is it?* the thing 'looked' out into the vast roiling plane of tinted white flame. *This place has many names; the White Hot Room, the White Current, the Speed Force, the Universal Consistent, the Barrier, the White Line. What it is, and it's purpose has been studied and debated for countless generations. What it is NOT,* it looked back at her, or at least she sensed it was, *is a resting place for the dead. For them it is a pleasant waypoint, nothing more.*_

_ *Am I dead?* She asked._

_ *No. If you were dead you would not have fought becoming one with the current. You are here because you remember a people long dead in the deep places of your mind as if they were your own. They had been attempting to harness the power of this place. Folly.* The guardian put a great deal of scorn into her thoughts. *You succeeded by design and by accident. And not in the way intended; or her perhaps not. You are heavily outnumbered, and the only hope is by your own stubbornness. Do you remember?*_

_The guardian brushed her mind with one 'hand', it's burning eyes demanding her own reckoning to respond. Soft whirls of memory layered about her naked mind like a veil, sparking terrible memories that built one atop another. At first it was too much, but along with the horrific recollection came her courage, her determination, and her fierce protectiveness._

_ The thing drifted closer, and she saw herself reflected in the glass gaze- not her own flesh, but the truth of her form; the self that actually was. She was terrible, and beautiful, like the most lovingly crafted spear; breed and tempered for a single destiny._

_ Commander Shepard met the terrible intensity of it's gaze without flinching. *Yes.*_

_ *You need information,* it stated this, somehow, as a fact without inflection when Shepard could not manage to hide her own. *I would offer it to you- but the cost is high.*_

_ *If I fail, the cost is innumerable. Failure cannot happen,* Shepard felt her strength returning._

_ *The cost would be your life,* the guardian replied._

_ *Like all of us, I'm going to have a death anyway; if it turns the tide and wins the war, it would be worth it. A lot can be done with a death, if the information is good . . .*_

_ The thing did not smile, but somehow the intent came across anyway,*Suspicious and rightly so. I will give you this so you may decide if I am truthful. * The guardian's gaze became far away, *An old ally will call upon you for a favor. Be cautious in this, your old enemy is insidious. Every hour passed since you saved your leaders has been purchased with blood; the debt paid ahead of you is about to come due, and every moment henceforth is going to become exponentially more expensive. The hour is later than you know, and the time to prepare is squandered. Be vigilant.* One limb pointed onward, *Your guide back approaches. When you reach your decision, you need only think your answer.*_

_ Shepard looked out into the white torrent where the thing had gestured, and saw the approaching light, dimmer than it's surroundings. As it closed in on her she felt joy, like a hot liquid poured over her heart, as it eased a tightness she had not known she carried. _

_ *Ma'am, you're far from the _Normandy_.*_

_ She could not cry, but she made the attempt. *Ash . . . I-*_

_ *Stow it Skipper,* she reprimanded with good cheer. *You made a tactical call, not a personal one. You would have saved us both if you could.* Ashley smiled at her, radiant and beautiful in a haunting way that had only been hinted at when she had been in the flesh._

_ *Kaidan doesn't think so. He thinks I've lost my mind- that I've become soft and gullible.*_

_Ashley shrugged, *I might have said the same in his place; but he doesn't know what I do. You've always done right by your crew and he'll remember that before the end. Do you remember singing 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic' for me before the nuke went off?*_

_ *How could I forget? I couldn't see though the tears- I was so glad the crew couldn't see my face beneath my helmet.*_ _ Their hands joined, and she felt the marine pull her along. The waves of heat and light caressed them as they passed. *Liara is waiting,* Ash told her, *Look after Sarah for me. I'll be waiting at the gates for you when your time comes!*_ _ Shepard felt herself pass Ashley, rushing now, going beyond where she could reach. She felt Liara calling for her, guiding the way home._

_Duty was calling._

* * *

><p>"Ash."<p>

The whisper of sound brushed Liara's face like a caress. As her former commander become fully conscious she felt a single tear, cooling in the air, drop onto her fingers. Their eyes met, Shepard's slightly unfocused from the water in her eyes, most of it unshed. Still, there was recondition in her gaze.

"Is everyone ok?" Shepard croaked, her voice rough from disuse.

Shepard felt the grip on one of her hands tighten slightly. She turned slightly and saw Garrus bent over her bedside, attempting and failing to hide the fact that he looked like hell. Shifting to the right, she saw her mother standing beside Garrus's family. Hannah was maneuvering back toward her daughter.

Liara slumped slightly over her former commander's head. As usual Shepard was intending to look after her crew before trying to inventory her own injuries. "It was my understanding that you were the only one to sustain significant injuries," she told the stubborn woman, who still somehow managed to look dangerous while disoriented and lying flat on her back.

Out of the corner of one eye, Shepard watched Dr. Chakwas push her way past Solana and begin to scan her leader for additional injuries, "I'm sorry about our dinner plans, Liara," Shepard attempted to convey how contrite she felt.

Liara smiled sadly, "Do not worry. I will see you anyway at the memorial service; it will be good to see the old _Normandy_ crew again. I am looking forward to it." The asari pushed herself to her feet, squeezing her shoulder once before leaving the room as suddenly as she had entered it.

She felt her mother grip her free hand as Liara left the room with little more than a wave. Hannah Shepard looked like she wanted nothing more than to pull her daughter into a crushing embrace with just barely checked emotion. She settled for holding one limb.

Garrus relinquished his grip on her to peer over Dr. Chakwas' shoulder, trying to read the results. After a moment the turian fixed the human medic with a stare. "Well?" he demanded. Both Shepards ruthlessly smothered their grins.

"Medically," the silver haired human told him, "She appears fine. I'll still have to replace the amp they broke-"

"Does that have to be done now?" Garrus cut her off.

"No," Chakwas said slowly, "I suppose not."

Garrus gave the human physician a sharp nod. He looked across the medical bay, towards Legion's closet of a room, and caught Solana's eye. "I'll be back in awhile." He stood patiently waiting for Hannah to relinquish her hold on her daughter, trying with all his dignity to ignore the woman's clear and desperate desire to laugh at him.

Commander Shepard gently untangled her fingers from her mother, smiling up into her lover's face. "Yes?" she asked, her tone teasing.

He growled at her, then scooped her up and carried her unceremoniously from sickbay, heading toward the loft. Neither the doctor nor her mother tried to stop him.

Solana took a deep breath, shocked. Not that she cared what her brother did and did not do but she'd never before seen him openly defy his father- or turian culture for that matter. If her father started in at Garrus, it would upset their mother, so she mentally scrambled, trying to quickly think of a way to keep her father from going though the roof. As she turned to defuse the situation, she saw the look of playful tolerance her mother usually wore was on her father. Granted, he looked more resigned than playful, but he was not getting ready to chew though the metal doors the couple had passed though. The human who had watched Garrus run off with her daughter wore a look that had a rather humorous echo of her father's expression.

Her father read the shock in her mandibles. "Your brother is protective of his mate," the old parent shrugged, "Like a good turian should be."

* * *

><p>Shepard tucked her head beneath Garrus' rather prominent mandibles, as he carried her without apology. The ship was surprisingly quiet; likely everyone who would be up was either on shore leave, running errands, or asleep. That was just as well with the two of them; Shepard had no ideas for what to say if anyone asked her why she was being carried around the <em>Normandy<em> like a bride.

Neither of the spoke as Garrus shifted her weight more toward one side and punched in the command for the elevator to take them to the loft. She could feel the strain in the turian's back- not from holding her but instead from stress. Asking if he was alright would do no good. She simply looped both arms around his neck and waited.

The doors opened, hitting them both with a blast of slightly warm air, perfumed with the odd, smoky smell Shepard had come to associate with turians in general and Garrus in particular. Taking the few steps down into the sunken bedroom, Garrus lay her gently on the bed, a strange energy arcing between them both.

"Garrus?" she asked, not quite sure how to phrase the question.

Garrus ducked his head, a mixture of passion and a small amount of residual shyness playing across his features, "I have to make sure you're alright." He pulled her toward him, a little desperately, and began to run his talons down her body. He stripped each of them efficiently, his gloves and her bra flying in different directions as both grew heated; as is the way of couples already familiar with each other's bodies. He lapped at each fading bruise that marred her skin, his tongue long and raspy. Her fingers danced down the curves and angles of his suede-like skin in reply, causing him to growl at her with barely caged passion. She had read the domination in his eyes and she loved to push the boundaries of it.

The rumbling deep in his chest grew in volume as he dragged his claws across her scalp, much in the way he might have if she had been a female of his own people. She may not have a fringe, but she still found it incredibly erotic- especially as he had moved her into the correct position to lick the slender column of her throat. Retaliating, she scraped her nails against his carapace in the softer, more vulnerable areas. He mock-snapped at her interference, belaying the pleasure she knew he took in her gentle (for a turian) love play.

Garrus suddenly flipped her over on to her stomach, one three fingered hand splayed between her shoulder blades.

"Garrus, what-" she demanded.

"I told you," he rumbled in that deep tone that made her squirm and feel flushed. "I have to check you," he paused and she felt she small scrape of his keel bone against her butt before she was shuttering as he swept his tongue against the small of her back, "Everywhere." The hand that was not busy pining her to the bed forced itself down between her body and the sheets to tease her breasts. While he did not exactly find the fleshy mounds of flesh as fascinating as his human counterparts, he definitely was always fascinated by her response. Shepard moaned, one delicate palm pressing into the headboard while her other limb was busy trying to crush the life out of the pillow unfortunate enough to have been caught beside them. She couldn't help the cry that escaped her throat as he moved to tease her lower, more sensitive spot any more than she could have stopped from bucking against his body. Her eyes watered as her entrance burned, longing for him.

Just when she though she couldn't take any more teasing, she felt the weight of his body cover hers- wonderful, delicious, but she needed more. One clawed fist slammed into the mattress beside her head for leverage, his other covered her hand against the headboard as he impaled her in one swift move. He howled, feeling her shutter and spasm in release beneath him as he hammered into her.

She had more than half expected this. The 'blowing off steam' after the destruction of the Collector Base had taken a good eight hours to achieve, and much longer to recover from the 'relief'. Shepard felt the sharp pain of his sharp teeth biting into her shoulder, forcing her stillness and securing her against the pillow top. The sharpness of the contrast against the feelings he was generating only seemed to make her hotter and she screamed; easily a match for him as her second peak stole the strength from her body.

Halfway in a daze, she felt him release her shoulder. He whispered her given name like a prayer and then collapsed gracelessly to one side. Summoning discipline to limbs that were as heavy as lead, she crawled the few inches separating them to curl against his warm body. She didn't want any distance between them. She was so very tired.

"Commander?" she heard EDI chime at an incredibly quiet volume, possibly outside the range of Garrus's hearing.

Shepard, mentally snarling at the AI, directed her gaze toward where she knew one of the cameras were and gave an imperceptible nod.

"Doctors Chakwas and Solis want to remind you that you cannot sleep without the replacement for the damaged amp." EDI sounded very matter-of-fact, and Shepard wondered if maybe the _Normandy_'s AI was trying to save her some embarrassment. She sighed.

"Tell the good doctor that I'll be down in forty minutes." She looked over at Garrus, shoving his shoulder playfully. "Come on big guy, your family is going to worry." She gave him a playful grin at his growl of exasperation. "EDI, make sure we're not disturbed before the time is up."

"Logging you out Shepard."

* * *

><p>The dawn over Illium came with a majestic subtlety, quiet drizzling rain crowning the morning rays. Commander Shepard waited as a line of subdued men and women in military dress made their way across the meadow toward the rendezvous point; a tent, sheltered from the weather by mass effect fields and lit by candles. She felt naked, despite being as dressed to the nines as they were. Her face was devoid of make-up, the orange scars unnerving to those who had not seen them before. She kept her face impassive, meeting their eyes without shame. Most nodded to her without hostility as they took their seats.<p>

Wrex greeted her with usual krogan enthusiasm, gripping her hand in a crushing shake as they slapped each other roughly on the back.

"How'd you get away?" Shepard asked him, humor and irony lacing her voice.

Wrex grumbled, gesturing with his short arms in a way that had always reminded her of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. "Easy," he told her, "I told the shaman that you and your Grunt went through the Omega 4 Relay brought back great honor to clan Urdnot, and I was going to collect him to fulfill his breeding requests. The shaman nearly ripped the quads off the first clan leader foolish enough to tell me not to go." The old krogan battle-master grinned toothily, with affectionate malice.

Liara had come early; technically the site had been rented in her name, and she had assisted with the set up. Joker was settled semi-comfortably in the front row, with his crutches taking up the seat next to him. As the tent filled, Shepard waited, as still as the pillars that held the canvas up.

They waited in the mist for the last living member of the original _Normandy_. As the appointed time approached, she began to wonder if he was coming at all.

Garrus moved to stand beside her, the lights on his visor targeting something beyond her sight. "I see him. He'll be here in two minutes."

Out of the shadows Kaidan Alenko stormed toward the gathering, his scowl suggesting he had just swallowed something extremely unpleasant. Shepard wondered if he was coming to break up the service. His hands were clenched into fists, and his whole posture screamed that he was itching for a fight. He didn't say anything to her until he practically kicked the grass up on to her boots.

"I'm not here for you," he told her in a low, harsh tone, laden with terrible emotion. His eyes flashed a challenge, "I'm here for Ash."

Shepard only nodded, not trusting her words. As he crossed the threshold, she allowed the tent flap to drop, sealing the melancholy weather outside.

She waited for the group to settle before taking the podium. "We are here to honor the memory of Gunnery Sergeant Ashley Williams. She gave her life on Virmire, guarding the nuclear bomb that destroyed the indoctrinated army of Sarien. Her personal sacrifice was only the beginning of the offering the whole Alliance made in defense of humanity, all the peoples of Council Space, and life itself. You were there; you knew her in a way none of the politicians, who post-modem gave her the medals she deserved in life, could ever boast of."

She paused, taking the crowd's measure. Her hands gripped the podium until her knuckles whitened beneath her skin. "Gunnery Sergeant Williams was one of my closest friends, even though we did not always agree. Ash gave the gift of self-sacrifice with grave dignity. We know she is with us," Shepard allowed her fingertips to brush her sternum, "Here. She would also remind us that our job remains unfinished. A storm is coming, a war that will make all others before it seem inconsequential. I will continue to fight, for the legacy Ashley Williams left behind, so her sacrifice will not be in vain. And like her, I will stand for the truth I've seen so the truth is seen in both me and my crew." Shepard inclined her head toward the rest of the assembled, "How each of you have chosen honor Ashley is deeply personal. But here, among those who were once as close as family, I ask that you share that part of yourselves now." She gestured up to the old crew of the first _Normandy_, signaling the rest the congregation to speak.

Wrex cleared his throat loudly, gaining everyone's attention. "Ashley was one of the few humans I ever respected. She knew what she thought, and was not afraid to say so. I didn't realize it at the time, but when Shepard and I were arguing over the fate of the cure for the genophage, Ashley had her gun trained on me the whole time; Offer one hand out, while keeping your gun in the other- Ashley Williams understood us Krogan in a way few ever do." The massive battle-master nodded once for effect than sat down somewhat awkwardly in the chairs that better suited the smaller races. The crowd shuffled slightly uneasily; this was high praise from Wrex they knew, but it was still odd to hear at a memorial.

Liara stood as soon as the general stir settled, "Ashley and I did not know each other as well as perhaps we should have. Humans have a saying, that 'hindsight is perfect vision', and with that in mind I regret not taking the time to know her, despite her prickly exterior. Shepard would often have Ashley come along with some of the non-human crewmembers, I think, so she would have the exposure she needed- not to get over her prejudice, but instead to gain perspective. I can only hope she has found that higher vision now." The asari bowed her head and then disappeared back into the sea of faces.

Dr. Chakwas stood, and waited patiently for the assembled to meet her eyes. She took a deep breath and began to sing; _"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see."_

Quietly and unsure at first the human crew began to join in. Wrex stared on impassively but said nothing. Shepard almost jumped when Garrus' reverberating voice joined them. A quick glance behind her showed that he had looked up the lyrics on his visor, and was following along. A few moments later Tali joined in herself, having done the same on her omni-tool. Liara began to weep, unbowed and unashamed as the whole of the assembly began the group sharing of not just grief but the celebration of life. The asari wore her grief with dignity and regality, like a veil, standing proud beside the crew she had been once a part of. Liara was not alone; there were less dry eyes than not.

Just outside the tent, the rain had stopped falling on Captain Hannah Shepard, and Officer Vakarian. Illium's sun was beginning to creep over Nos Astra, lighting up the buildings in a grey and silver illumination. The beauty was distant from them, as difficult and world breaking truths continued to rock the way they had viewed their lives. Each knew the wrestling was not yet done with each issue, but for the moment they were content to subtly guard their children.

"They're as safe as they're likely to be," the grizzled, retired C-Sec officer told the captain at last. "They're singing."The last was an observation; absent, as most had been lately, of any real tells on what his thoughts were.

The human looked at him for a long time, listening to the song wavering delicately in the water laden wind, and struggling to find the right words. "We sing this at funerals still. My daughter and I sang it for my husband at his service."

Vakarian nodded. "It is a beautiful song- surprisingly humble." He glanced around him in the warming air, "The mist is clearing."

They looked away. Hannah tried again, "I know what you are going though," she began awkwardly, her omni-tool lighting briefly, "This is my contact info. If you need help when the time comes-" she trailed off. He nodded, his shoulders doing a dance of discomfort.

The stood together, listening for a while longer. He still didn't like her. She didn't like him. Even so-

She clapped him on his back, startling them both with the action. Still, once begun she did not regret it. "Come on," she told him. "Let me buy you a drink before you have to go back to dealing with your family. There's this asari matriarch bartender that is an absolute hoot."


	6. Epilogue: Destination Unknown

_ Disclaimer: No characters in the following fan-fiction belong to the authoress, but instead belong to Bioware or their prospective owners. The authoress takes no responsibility to any relation to anything, living or dead, as it is purely coincidental. This chapter contains __**spoilers**__** for Mass Effect DLC: **__**Arrival**__; Author's Notes are at the end of the chapter._

**Waypoint:**

Epilogue: Destination Unknown

"_You can fight like a Krogan, run like a leopard,  
>but you'll never be better than Commander Shepard."<em>

_ "Commander Shepard", miracleofsound ()_

Half embraced by the darkness, Commander Shepard watched the silent development of a torrential storm over Illium's equator. Annoyed, she noticed her hands shook sending little ripples across her cup of coffee. The warmth of the mug between her fingers, and relatively comfortable fabric of her 'dirty work' overalls should have been enough to quiet her mind, but while it was blissfully empty for the moment she knew the mental peace would not last. Mordin and Chakwas had gone over her carefully (in fact Shepard knew that her silver-haired medic had nearly taken off the Admiral's head when he had arrived to debrief her), and Mordin had told her she was not to resume her duties for another week or so. The drugs used to keep her unconscious for two days had been applied heavy-handedly; and the salarian was concerned that until the drugs were worked out of her system she would not be able to make command decisions. Not working was difficult- one of the side effects of the tranquilizers used to keep her under for two days was an interference with her ability to compartmentalize; it meant she had nothing to do but think and try to come to grips with what had happened. The human spectre took a deep breath inhaling the rich aroma of her beverage and began again at the top.

Of course Admiral Hackett had known where she was. He had known where her mother was- he had practically ordered her to pick her up. He had in all likelihood picked up her communiqué to the rest of the living _Normandy_ crew. She's liked Admiral Hackett and the two of them had professional history, with him being the "voice" of official Alliance missions and requests. Hearing that the Alliance, likely with Councilor Anderson, had been quietly trying to verify what she'd been telling them all along had been gratifying. She blew on the steam from her drink interrupting the lazy ascension. She wanted to be angry with the admiral, but she was too practical for that.

How could she have forgotten, for even one moment, how insidious Reaper tech was? Her mind groped for an answer, over analyzing everything she had and had not done- trying to come up with a solution to an impossible answer. She had murdered three hundred thousand Batarians with her forgetfulness. Granted, she hadn't really any choice, and she HAD tried to warn the system; it had come down to either them, or everyone in the Galaxy. None of it made her feel better. She stared past Illium's gibbous form swollen with majesty and twinkling city lights and out into the star field without seeing any of the beauty. Before her death, she had felt she'd made a difference in the galaxy at large. Maybe she had, but it seemed like everything had snapped back into place when she had gone- like bands of firm rubber return to their original shape once someone stops pushing on them, with nothing to show for the energy spent.

Shepard sighed with some disgust at her melancholy thoughts. 'At least I know Cerberus installed my conscience correctly,' she thought with dark humor, staring into the black beverage. The coffee was real, the beans had probably been ground moments before the mess sergeant had let them steep- it was a real luxury, and one she would miss as soon as they left the docking bay at Nos Austra and the supply ran out.

She was back in the Port Observation Bay, quietly contemplating spiking her coffee with some Irish cream as she watched the planet and the stars beyond. Hannah Shepard had returned to the _Orizaba_ just before Hackett had asked for his 'favor', and her daughter had no idea what to tell her. She had started the e-mail three times before giving up for the moment. 'I did what had to be done; I'm not responsible for the actions of others,' she told herself; easy to say, harder to think, and most difficult to believe in her heart of hearts.

Shepard turned in surprise at the sound of the doors behind her opening, the normal level light somewhat blinding eyes that were adjusted to starlight. The silhouette was turian, and the posture told her it was Garrus. She felt her body relax slightly with the realization, as his boots made quiet thuds against the deck-plates. "I thought I might find you here," he told her.

Shepard closed her eyes, and let the soft and deep reverberations that she always found fascinating soothe the injuries that Dr. Chakwas' professional ministrations could not touch. "Well," she told him, unable and unwilling to keep from teasing him, "you've found me. What are you going to do with me?"

Garrus chuckled, stepping forward enough to allow the door to shut behind him. "I haven't decided yet." He sniffed deeply as he stalked toward her, the quiet footfalls a well ingrained habit. "What are you drinking?"

"Coffee." She offered the mug in his general direction as her eyes readjusted. She was beginning to feel as though she could have been blindfolded and under drugs but she still would have been able to find Garrus unerringly in a room. Still, the sight of her drinking coffee was nothing new. She raised one eyebrow at him in an unspoken question.

"It smells different," he said by way of explanation as he sat next to her in the softly lit room. Shepard looked haunted- not broken per se, but weighed down. Garrus knew something had gone horribly, tragically wrong, and just like she had waited for him to be ready about the fall of Archangel, he would wait for her to be ready to talk about the mission from hell that had left both her and the Alliance admiral looking so grim. He could tell the mantle of 'Savior of the Galaxy' was starting to wear through, but he knew she would never ask for help with her burdens. Besides, it was his job to make sure she never had to ask.

"It IS different," she continued blithely, "This is the real stuff." She looked at him, bold in spite of the dark circles under her eyes and the faint but foul smell of _wrongness_ in her natural chemistry that told him she had been drugged at some point while she had been gone from the Normandy. "You can try some if you would like." She shrugged, as if the matter was of no importance to her. Talking to the turian rebel seemed to give some order to her spinning thoughts- helped her focus.

Cautiously, Garrus removed one glove, and then dipped one talon into the black, warm mug. Careful to not spill any, he let the few drops he collected slide onto his tongue. The slight screwing up of the various plates on his face told Shepard that he had formed some strong opinion of it, but she wasn't sure what.

He turned to look at her, "You actually DRINK that stuff?" His mandibles now showed clear disgust. "And here I thought you had good taste!"

She laughed a little, "It's an _acquired_ taste." The mercenary scourge of Omega looked like some kid who had been slipped sulfuric vegetables instead of dessert.

"Like turians?" he counted slyly, re-gloving one hand and ignoring the foul beverage.

"No," she replied with overplayed casualness, "Coffee perks up humans, and turians don't give me any such boost in energy- unless they're shooting at me."

"Well, THIS turian has something to give you." Garrus glanced away, looking a little shy and coughing to cover his discomfort at the unintentional innuendo. He pushed something into her spare hand- a small box which made a little noise when she shook it experimentally. Shepard set her coffee to one side and glanced at her companion for another moment before pushing the lid up, revealing a pendant.

Her eyes went round, and as soft as he'd ever seen them. "Garrus," she allowed the silver cross backed by a tongue of flame to dangle from her fingers, "how did you know? I didn't think anyone remembered."

He shrugged; like her, he was playing it as casual as possible, "I was with you when we were chasing that rouge spectre all around the galaxy, remember? I've known you for a little while." Gently, he removed the chain that he had chosen for its durability to replace the initial, more delicate links from her hands. "Let me."

He moved out of her sight, and passed one end of the chain beneath her chin. She felt him fumble with the clasp for a moment before gravity took over with a gentle pull. Garrrus pressed his brow into the soft mass of hair, inhaling the pheromones. They stayed like that for a while, ignoring the bitter reality outside their cocoon of stars.

Finally, "The Migrant Fleet has decided that they are going ahead with the retaking of their home world. Tali's aunt just sent word." Garrus spoke quietly, concealing the seething rage he felt at the Admiralty Board.

Shepard sighed as she retrieved the mug next to her, swirling the dark liquid around in the cup for a moment. She took a sip before saying "Wrex was acting strange in his last message; the whole thing smells fishy. My gut says whatever it is, it isn't good."

"Damn," he hissed. Shepard's instincts were usually right on the mark and she had a talent for understatement. Garrus scraped the plate between his eyes in frustration and with enough force to make his commander wince. "Why does everything always fall apart the instant we get out of arms' reach?"

The human sighed, returning her attention to the star field before them. "Damned if I know, big guy. Sometimes I think life in the galaxy is perverse enough to fight against its own survival," she pulled a deep draught from her coffee. "But then I remember that life makes the least possible change at the last possible moment."

Garrus eyed her sidelong as she took another swig from her coffee now that it was cool enough to drink without burning her more sensitive mouth. "Ah yes, 'change';" he mimicked the turian councilor. As far as Garrus was concerned he deserved a front row seat to the invasion they both knew was coming, "A transformation in perspective that will allow Council Space to fend off an invading army of ancient sentient machines wanting to wipe out all life. Bah! We have dismissed those claims."

Shepard smiled over her shoulder at him, but it was heavy with irony and bitterness. She took a deep breath, her fingers tangling around the pendant as if it had always been there. Garrus watched her struggle with what she wanted to tell him. "Garrus, I . . ."

"Commander," EDI interpreted whatever she had been trying to say. "Solana Vakarian and her parents are on their way to your location. Should I redirect them?"

The commander of the _Normandy_ let her head fall backwards for effect, staring up at the ceiling and counting to ten. "No," she said after she had taken the edge off of her ire, "Go ahead and send them in." The two of them had enough time to share a small look of irony and frustration before the Vakarian clan popped their bubble of privacy. The three turians were hovering close together, and something about the way they stood told Shepard whatever they had been discussing had not exactly been neutral or pleasant.

Garrus came to his feet and his commander followed his lead, watching the familiar group though narrowed eyes. Her mask of professionalism was flawless to strangers, though the turian vigilante noticed small slippages. The small tendency for her blunt teeth to worry her fleshy bottom lip, the dark colored smudges beneath her large eyes- all signs that she was near the end of her energies. He hoped his family didn't actually need her for anything while her armor was so cracked and being held up by force of will alone.

"Good evening," Shepard greeted them in the awkward silence that had followed the Vakarian clan's entrance. "Can I offer any of you a drink?" She gestured to the bar from which Katsumi had often served drinks to the squad members. Neither she nor Garrus indicated their belief that they were the uncomfortable topic of discussion.

"Thank you, but no," Garrus' mother told her, passing a significant look toward her daughter and mate. "I was hoping to speak to you privately."

Garrus shifted slightly, the remarkably blank expression told Shepard that he was weighing what it would cost him to get his commander away from his family. She waited, and when he did not say anything she turned her professional smile on the older turian female. "It would be my pleasure," she gestured toward one of the comfortable lounge sofas.

The two women waited while Garrus and Solana moved across the room with their father. Solana went digging though the liquor cabinets and poured some florescent orange liquid into a highball glass. Shepard turned her attention back to the turian in front of her.

Garrus' mother was definitely older, the cracked and weathered plates that were visible spoke that his mother had likely been very active in her youth. She held herself carefully and with great dignity, likely concealing the amount of pain she was enduring. It gave her the impression of deliberateness, and a hawkish regality; Lady Vakarian likely had no more energy to waste on frivolity. She noticed that the turian was studying her with the same intensity as the human spectre had been- but the expression was shuttered and gave nothing away.

"So," Garrus's mother began at last, "What happened?"

Shepard jerked slightly, that was NOT what she had been expecting. She waited for clarification, but the female continued to stare at her impassively. "Normally people ask where I'm from before they ask anything else."

"I know where you come from," Lady Vakarian pointed out, "I know what put you on the map, why your people chose you to become the first spectre of your kind. I know about your part in the Battle for the Citadel. I looked into you back when Garrus signed on to your ship and the crew of this ship has been very free with information with us; and if my understanding is correct, by your order."

Shepard inclined her head in acknowledgment of that fact. "Please be more specific with your question," she asked Garrus's mother.

Lady Vakarian's expression didn't change. "I can put enough together I figure out that you were the one behind the Bahak disaster. I am sick, but not mentally impaired. What happened?"

Shepard hid her surprise, though she knew Garrus' mother caught some of it. She studied the turian for a long moment weighing something; she was not sure of the rules and she had no name for it. Her eyes, so much like her son's demanded unvarnished truth. She scraped at an annoyingly dry spot on her lip, reopening a cut there and filling her mouth with the taste of iron, copper, and salt. Their eyes had locked without either intending or noticing initially, and now she could not look away. Yet, this woman deserved to know what kind of person her son was following, so she began to tell her the truth. Every so often she would stop, leaving gaps of classified information in shallow trenches they leapt over without visiting. Garrus' mother didn't seem to care that her slippages grew until even a turian untutored in her people's expressions could read her distress. Eventually her hands were grabbed by another set- these three fingered and deeply cragged from age. Even so, the comfort was as human as any embrace she had shared with her own people; perhaps more human than human.

"What will you do?" Lady Vakarian asked as she came to the end of her tale.

"Whatever is needed- whatever is best for the Galaxy as a whole. We can't risk outright war with one another when an even worse threat is about to come banging down our door. My crew-" she glanced up and came to realize that Garrus had been silently eavesdropping. "My crew knows what I expect of them, and I have been training several of the squad in their leadership skills. If the Alliance decides to have a show trial I'll supply the bullet if that's what it takes. The time we have left has been dearly bought, and we dare not waste any more." She took a deep breath, "But I don't have to like it."

Lady Vakarian nodded briskly, and then stood. She motioned toward her family in a silent order to join her. "Such self sacrifice is rare in any species," the old turian woman told her. "I must now ask your indulgence."

Shepard nodded, mystified. Garrus came over toward her side, two steps just behind and on her left where he always stood. It was where she was most vulnerable, and he sometimes did it to put her at ease. Solana had remained silent throughout most of exchange, her own thoughts kept hidden. Shepard watched the two parents argue in hushed tones she was unable to make much sense of before the matron of the Vakarian clan ended her mate's objections with a harsh and sudden snap of her teeth. She gave Shepard no clue or warning what was going on when she returned to the seat she had vacated.

"Will you accept what I offer?" She asked in a formal tone that made the hair on Shepard's nape stand on end, holding a small tin in one hand. Her talons covered the label.

Shepard would have traded her nuke launcher for even the faintest reflection of Garrus' face in that moment, and would have thought herself given the better end of the deal. However, only about the bottom third of the turian rebel's body was caught in the dim reflected starlight. She nodded, and moved forward when the elder woman waved her toward her feet.

As she settled on to her knees, looking up at the face of a relative stranger, Lady Vakarian caught her chin and began to speak to her softly, the words remote, old, and beautiful but lost to translation. She caught the movement of a brush of the of the corner of one eye, so she was only slightly surprised as the cool liquid was brushed over her face in a slow and practiced pattern. The whole ritual took only a few moments.

When Lady Vakarian released her face, a team of rabid vorcha would have been unable to stop her from looking for her reflection in the port viewing glass. The blue markings that had been so carefully painted across her face seemed to fit her, as though she had been missing them from her image all her life.

"Even should your whole people reject you-," Lady Vakarian was telling her, "And should you survive, you will always have a home with us. That is my promise to you. Though I would not wear the markings to your trial; the Alliance might convict you from that alone." Then the ill and weak turian female seemed to fill with energy and fixed her with the most predatory stare she had seen in quite a while. "You WILL keep my son safe." She nodded briefly at Garrus, then left as suddenly as she had come, taking her husband and daughter with her.

Garrus stared after the retreating forms of his family for a long moment before turning Shepard around to face him. The two of them searched each other's face, each wondering what the other was thinking.

"I take it that's not normal," she said at last.

"Unprecedented," he agreed, his predatory eyes tracing the familiar lines that now looked so alien on her face. It unshackled something in him; a deep demand that was mixed with domination, sex, trust, love, and family ties. "I like them," he said at last, "But I'm not sure if it would be Udina or Councilor Valern who would die of heart palpitations first."

She smiled back at him, the shadows in her eyes and face chased away for the moment. "I think I would pay to see that." She reached out toward him as he moved closer to her to try to shelter her from the bitter memories of old betrayal. They stood together, trying to imprint their feelings of that moment deep into their memories; praying that if the worst should happen they could take the few cherished moments before the storm into the void with them.

'Nothing is permanent. Even the stars move,' Shepard thought to herself, taking in Garrus' heady, smoky scent. She reached up and shook his shoulder gently. "I'll be up in the CIC in a few. I'll see you tonight."

Garrus nodded at her, wondering if there had been something he should have said in those few seconds where time stopped. He looked over his shoulder for a moment at the most deadly women in the galaxy whose profile was lit dimly with cybernetics and starlight before leaving.

The door whooshed quietly at the turian's exit, and she looked out into the vast blackness she had vowed to protect. One hand came up of its own volition, covering a face she saw there. It was strangely angled, but hidden from most of her sight in the void. Four eyes, shaped unlike anything that currently lived in the known galaxy, and lit with a strange and primal fire, demanded one answer of her.

She stood quietly, staring at her own reflection and not the Other, weighing her decision. The cobalt markings reminded her of her own duty- the matron of the Vakrians had marked her from skin to bone, and into her mind.

Commander Shepard looked at the face that was not her own, determination steeling her spine, and cleansing her of exhaustion. "You have a deal," she said into the darkness and the Other. "Now start talking."

~Fin~

Author's Notes:

This is where Waypoint was always meant to end; and I mean that with all sincerity- I didn't actually expect anyone to read it. Most readers have no doubt noticed the major veer off into the twilight zone. That's definitely not everyone's cup of tea. . . and honestly I can't cement down some major plot points until Mass Effect 3 comes out, so here is the deal. If I should even bother writing or putting up the part that comes out after "Waypoint", please message me or note it in your final review. There definitely IS a continuation, and if enough people want it the project is tentatively titled "_Clad in Gilded Shadow"._

Once again, many thanks to my sounding board and reluctant beta-reader (my husband) who spies plot holes and things that shouldn't go unsaid in addition to cheering me up when I get depressed, as well as the Calibrations thread on the Bioware forums- for their opinionated and spirited debates that are as inspiring as they are thought provoking.

_Waypoint_ is dedicated to my Grandfather-in-Law, who lost his battle with cancer on August 9th, and went to join his wife of many years and his eldest daughter. I hope he has found a place beyond pain.


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